*L 




m 






wmm 



Jffl 



mm 



# LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, e 

j^fAi^rtw j. I 

! UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.! 



A. ft. SbrfdfiiA, &5 



vVv ft ; C^ v)i i!u^ f , J; 



le 



lAc 



'/; 



/V/Tl 




(TAcXn>, ($74 



THE KING'S STRATAGEM: 

%. ®ragi:b», in <#ibc §tds. 
By STELLA. 



oiPiiN-ioirsrs oif the press. 

' " The King's Stratagem " has symmetry, grace, and tenderness, and a 
strongly accentuated individuality; and is worthy of the reputation of La 
Stella.' Home Journal. 

' It complies with all the conditions of legitimate tragedy.' Examiner. 

' " The King's Stratagem," was intended for the stage, and with good acting 
would be popular, as there is no lack of incident, and the story affords plenty 
of opportunities for theatrical effect. The plot turns upon the loves of Chris- 
tine, the Pearl of Poland, and Milo : the King of the country has the hero 
assassinated in order to steal his bride, but she is saved from her intended fate, 
and retribution falls upon the ravisher. The best passage, as far as writing is 
concerned, is the Bishop's speech in the last scene of Act I.' The Graphic. 

• It is a play more suited for the study than the stage.' 

Westminster Review. 
'"The King's Stratagem," from the pen of a gifted lady, under the nom de 
plume of Stella, brings out into deep relief the terrible nature and punishment 
of crime, and the ennobling effects of true, constant love.' 

Victoria Magazine. 
' In this very material age a volume of true poetry is always welcome, and 
such is the volume before us.' Central Express. 

1 "The King's Stratagem " is a tale of love and crime forcibly conducted to 
its tragic denouement. The plot is clearly conceived, the scenes well posed, and 
the characters drawn with a vigorous hand. The tone is high, and scattered 
through the piece are passages where the language rises to dramatic dignity.' 

Worcester Journal. 

• " The King's Stratagem," from the pen of Stella, the most talented of the 
American poets, is a dramatic version of one of the most tragic incident of 
Polish History. It is full of striking positions, and if well put upon the stage 
would be popular.' The Rhyl Record. 



THE KING'S STRATAGEM 



OK 



THE PEARL OF POLAND 



A TRAGEDY in FIVE ACTS 



KY 



STELLA 



AUTHOR OF 'RECORDS/ OF THE HEART' 'CHILD OF THE SEA 
'MYTHS OF THE MINSTRELS' ETC. / 



i / II 



SECOND EDITION 

4 







LONDON 
TRUBNER & CO., 57 & 59 LUDGATE HILL 

1874 



All rights reserved 



& 



v> 5 



To be had at the Galignam Library, 224 rue de Rivoli, 
and of Messrs. J. Kremer § Co., 2 rue Scribe, Paris 



f 

SDebication 

*? TO THOSE 

WHO LOVE TRUTH AND JUSTICE 

AND BELIEVE IN THE INTERVENTION OE HEAVEN 

BETWEEN MORTAL BELLIGERENTS 

THIS TRAGEDY 
IS INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR 



LONDON: PRINTED BY 

SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUAtt 

AND PAltUAaiENT STREET 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



Bolkslas II., King of Poland. 

KoTSCHUSKI, "] 

Waxisias, and I his Favourites. 

SOBOUSKI, 

Wislas, Physician to the King. 

Ceslas, an old Guard. 

De Gense, Archbishop and Primate of Poland. 

Stanislas, Bishop of Cracow. 

Pieebe Milo, a Polish Nobleman, married, to 

Christine. 
Count Waldimib, in love with Christine, and 

subsequently married to her. 
Pieebe, 1 

Jacques, and f Claimants. 
Sulislas, J 

WOMEN. 

Christine Stanislas, styled " The Pearl of Poland. 
Axisa, nurse to Christine. 

Noblemen — Bishops — People — Guards — Servants- 
Vassals, and Ghosts. 



SCENE. 
CKACOW and PIOTEAWIN 



PROLOGUE 



Oh come, and gaze on beauty's star to night ! 
Behold it rise with rare and radiant light, 
Then pass into a cloud, and from this sphere 
With its bewildering splendour disappear. 

Turning contemplate, then, the startling scenes 
When Heaven between belligerents intervenes ! 
See Falsehood, with his cowering legions, fly 
Before the marshalled armies of the sky ; 
Or, suddenly enwrapped in sulphurous sheet, 
Stand pale and lifeless at the Conqueror's feet : 
And learn how strong becomes the weaker cause 
When it is succoured by celestial laws. 

To lift up Truth from under Perjury's heel 
Behold the sepulchre her gates unseal ; 
Dead bones around them wrap their dust and walk, 
And stand before a mighty king and talk; 
And, from the fate of him who wrought a crime 
That stained the flag of Poland through all time, 
Profoundest lessons draw and faith sublime. 



ACT I. 

PIOTRAWIN, WITH THE CARPATHIAN MOUNTAINS IN VIEW. 

SCENE I. 

Morning. The frontage-ground of the Manor-House of Stanislas 
on the bank of the Vistula. Enter Christine in a riding habit 
and mask, followed by Alisa in the attire of a cavalier. 

CHRISTINE (pausing before a rose-tree, and striking her 
habit with her whip, as if beating time to her 
thoughts) . 
I hear a sweet voice singing, 

Though all around is mute — 
Down in my heart 'tis ringing, 
Like silver-corded lute. 

Sometimes it breathes in mezzo 

Softest emmoving tones, 
Then rises to falsetto 

As sighs break into moans — 

alisa (approaching with an air of alarm). 
Christine, Christine, my pet, didst hear that thunder ? 

Christine (continuing her reverie) 
Then fine as spirits rapping, 

Their presence to impart 
At Eden's gate, I hear a tapping 

At the portal of my heart. 

And one without a- crying — 

" 'Tis late, come forth fair one — 

Keep me not here a-sighing 
Until the day be done. 



2 KING S STRATAGEM 

Come a-gleaning and love-prating 
By babbling brook and broom — 

The fruit is ripe and waiting — 

The flowers they are all in bloom." 

ALISA. 

Christine, Christine, my pet, didst hear that thunder ? 

Christine (laying her little gloved hand on the arm 
of Alisa). 

Alisa, tell me why I wear this mask ? 

alisa (kissing her brow). 
To keep the wind from spoiling thy fair face. 

CHRISTINE. 

I'm sure the wind would spoil it not for once : 
To-morrow I would ride without my mask. 

ALISA. 

I'll ask the Bishop for permission, Miss. 

CHRISTINE. 

Why ask the Bishop ? Art not thou my mistress ? 
I want to ride outside the park to-morrow — 
And ride without my mask. 

ALISA. 

Ay ! you surprise me. 

CHRISTINE. 

I know there 're pretty roads and flowers outside, 
And people, too ; for one day as we passed 
Beneath the ivied wall that separates 
Our grounds from Milo's lofty towered castle, 
A flower was thrown o'er 'neathmy pony's feet. 



ALISA. 

A loving angel dropped it from the sky. 

CHRISTINE. 

Do angels wear fair beards, and hats like thine ? 

ALISA. 

Why does my lambkin ask such silly questions ? 

CHRISTINE. 

Because above the wall whence came the flower 
I saw a beard and hat, and pair of eyes 
Bright as two stars — 

ALISA. 

Tut ! tut ! It was a blackbird. 

CHRISTINE. 

Do blackbirds wear fair beards and hats, Alisa ? 
And have mouths wreathed with smiles that make 
the heart leap ? 

alisa (aside). 
The bud is bursting into sudden bloom : 
I am alarmed, and must acquaint the Bishop. 

CHRISTINE. 

Alisa, nurse, why dost thou ape a man ? 

alisa (confused). 
The better to protect my little birdie. 

CHRISTINE. 

I think thee horrible in pantaloons, 
And would prefer a natural gentleman. 

ALISA. 

Girls in their teens think not of gentlemen ; 
(Aside. Oh ! this is frightful !) that's their time for 
study. 

b2 



4 KING'S STRATAGEia 

CHRISTINE. 

Have I not studied Greek and Latin till 
I can say Homer, Virgil, all by heart ? 

ALISA. 

Yes, dearest lamb, and let me bear again 
Thee say the Battle of the Gods, from Homer — 
Thine own translation, not the Bishop's, give me. 

CHRISTINE. 

And wilt thou let me ride without my mask ? 

ALISA. 

Becite it, and I will beseech the Bishop. 

CHRISTINE. 

When the Olympian habitants came down. 
Among the mortal throng, a tumult rose 
That shook the pallid world. Without the wall, 
Beside the deepened trench, Minerva stood, 
And shouted till her clarion voice was heard 
Where dashed the roaring waves of Simois. 
Upon the highest tower of trembling Troy 
Mars, God of War, stood like a mighty tempest, 
Urging the Trojans on to deadly strife ; 
Or, like a whirlwind swept along their ranks. 

Jove, father of the Deities and men, 
Thundered from highest heaven. The Ocean God 
Heaved from beneath immensity of earth, 
And shook the mountain tops. The roots of Ida, 
And all her fountain-gushing summits reeled ; 
Troy, city and the navy of the Greeks, 
Booked like an earthquake. Deep beneath the ground 
The Monarch of the Dead in darkest hell 



king's stratagem 5 

Turned pale, and leaped affrighted from his throne, 
And shrieked aloud, lest He that shakes the world 
Should cleave earth's vault asunder, and lay bare 
Hell's mansions to the eyes of Gods and men. 

ALISA. 

Bravo ! my little actress ! bravo ! bravo ! 

CHEISTINE. 

Now may I ride unmasked outside the park ? 

ALISA. 

I'll see the Bishop, and hear what he says. 

CHEISTINE. 

Oh, dear ! Why does he lock me in my room 
When he has gentlemen to dinner, Alisa ? 

ALISA (aside). 
Dear, dear ! I have no answer for that question ! 

CHRISTINE. 

There's one of them has such a magic voice — 
I'd like to see him — and I will see him ! 

alisa (aside). 
That is young Milo who talks like a lute — 
But, I must end this tete-a-tete somehow. 
Girls at her age are difficult to manage — 
Nature is such a blabber of her secrets 
One cannot keep the heart in ignorance. 

(To Cheistine). 
Christie, sweet birdie, thou art weary — come in, 
Come, pretty one, and we will see to-morrow. 
It is thy birth-day, and we'll have a fete — 
A dance upon the green in honour of it. 

[Exewbt. 



KINGS STRATAGEM 



SCENE II. 



The Library in the Manor-House. Stanislas seated at a table 
reading Plato. 

Stanislas (looking up). 

The world has but one Plato and one Homer : 

In the unfathomed rivers of their thoughts 

Philosophy and poesy will live 

And light the universe as long as Sol. 

Their minds were mediums of divinity, 

The dew Heaven drops into the lips of thought 

To quench the carnal longing of the soul, 

And lift it to the level of the Godhead — 

The inspiration, without which there's naught 

Immortal — 

(Alisa enters, and drops into afauteuil opposite.) 

ALISA. 

My Lord, I have great need to speak with thee. 

(The Bishop lays his book on the table, and folds his 
hands in the attitude of listening). 

My wits are at their end — quite at their end 
For answers to a thousand and one questions. 
Our lamb must have a larger fold, my Lord ; 
And if we give it not, she'll leap the fence, 
And stray away wherever it may please her. 
She's weary of the mask and of restraint ; 
Some one has thrown a bouquet o'er the wall — 
Milo, I know — that's turned her little head : 
She is resolved to ride outside the park 
Without her mask — yes, sir, without her mask — 
And to be present at your dinner parties 
When Milo, Waldimir — and all are here. 
Says that she hears a voice among their voices 



KING S STRATAGEM 

That's sweeter than the music of the lute — 
'Tis Milo's voice that's turning her young head. 
I know it is — sir ! you laugh ! but if 
You were to hear her you would cry, as I do. 

Stanislas (with a deep sigli). 
A change of shepherds must be brought about. 

ALISA. 

sir ! sir ! say not so ! say not so ! 

For eighteen years I've nursed her in my bosom — 

Carried her in my very heart of hearts, 

And all the while she's been the dearest thing, 

The mildest, sweetest little blue- eyed lamb 

That ever God sent to the infant fold ; 

And now to yield my charge unto another — 

sir ! O sir ! the thought quite overcomes me — 

(Aside). 

If Milo should propose for her — heaven 
And earth ! break not my soul on such a wheel ! 

STANISLAS. 

To-morrow is her birth-day. We will have 
A fete upon the lawn, and let her dance 
With Milo, Waldimir, without her mask. 

ALISA. 

Encourage not the noble Milo, sir ; 
Young Waldimir's a better match for her, 
More suited to her age and youthful tastes. 

STANISLAS. 

And why not Milo ? He's a princely youth, 
A match for any maiden in the land. 



8 king's stratagem 

alisa (stammering). 

Yes, lie's a prince — a princely youth, indeed, 
But Waldimir would match our beauty better 
He is so handsome, gentle, and so loving. 

STANISLAS. 

Alisa, I have often thought that nature 
Intended Milo for our precious pearl ; 
The moulds wherein she cast them are so like, 
Hast never thought of it ? 

alisa (embarrassed). 

0, no — no sir, 
But since you turn my thoughts into the subject, 
I see a likeness that might swear their veins 
Had drawn their currents from the self- same fount — 
But, sir, come talk to Christie of the fete, 
And smooth the ruffled waters of her heart. 

STANISLAS. 

Nay, bring her here ; but first bid Jean attend me. 

(Aside, writing). 

I'll summon Milo to my bower this night, 
And on his heart-pulse lay my mental finger. 

ALISA (aside, going). 

Milo shall ne'er be shepherd to my lamb ! 
I'll turn the world out of its orbit sooner — 
Unlock my heart — and to the pitiless winds 
Bid scandal with her foul breath blow my secret. 

[Exit. 

Stanislas (giving a note to Jean, ivho enters). 
Take this to Milo — place it in his hand, 
And with your best speed bring me his reply. 



KING S STRATAGEM 

(Exit Jean. Re-enter Alisa with Christine). 
Well, well, how dotli it with my pearl to-day ? 

CHRISTINE (sighing). 
Well, father, well. 

STANISLAS. 

Then why that sigh, my pearl ? 
That jarring quaver in thy silver voice ? 
Has not thy pony trotted to thy liking ? 



Yes, father. 



Christine (sighing), 



STANISLAS. 

Have the birds sung out of tune ? 

Christine (sighing). 

They never sang so sweetly as this morn. 
(Aside.) But on my heartstrings love made sweeter 
music. 

STANISLAS. 

Then, kiss me, child, and tell me why thou art sad, 
And discontent. 

Christine (hissing his brow). 

I am not sad — but — but — 

STANISLAS. 

Bat what ? 

Christine (after a pause). 
I'm weary of this mask — the roads — 
The trees — the flowers — the birds — the air I breathe — 
Everything. 

STANISLAS. 

Of me, too ? 



• 10 king's stkatagem 

christine. 

O, no, father, no — 
But I would like to ride outside the park 
Without my mask, and see the roads, and trees, 
And flowers, and taste the breath of heaven there. 

STANISLAS. 

And so you shall, my pearl — to-morrow is 
Thy birth-day. We will have a fete, and thou 
Shalt dance with Milo, Waldimir, without 
Thy mask. 

CHRISTINE. 

O father ! do you really mean it ? 

Stanislas (hissing her brow). 
Yes, child. 

CHRISTINE. 

Then, I shall never weep again. 

STANISLAS. 

I'd give my life to buy thee happiness — 
Ay, fifty lives, were they at my disposal. 

(He leads Tier out, followed by Alisa). 



SCENE III. 



Evening. An Oaken Bower on the bank of the Vistula, in sight 
of the Manor-House. Stanislas, wrapped in a long black stole 
walks to and fro. He stops, and clasps his brow with his right 
hand, as if to fix his thoughts. 



STANISLAS. 



It must be so, alas ! it must be so ! 
This selfish heart must render up its idol, 
The deified Penates of my household. 



king's stkatagem 11 

For eighteen years I've been a faithful shepherd, 
Watching the fold of one dear little lamb, 
And fortifying it with love and prayer ; 
For eighteen years have studied how to shield 
Its helplessness against the wind and wave — 
The wolf that is the scourge of bleeding Poland. 

The time is come that asks a change of shepherds. 
Milo has thrown his heart over the wall 
Wrapped np in a bouquet. He is my man. 
He's noble, powerful, and would defend 
My lamb against his brother, King — his God. 

[He dashes a tear from his cheek, and strides forward into the 
arms of Milo as he enters from an avenue, followed closely 
by Sobouski, the King's spy, muffled in a dark mantle. He 
passes behind a tree. The two noblemen seat themselves on a 
garden bench beneath the same. Altsa appears at one angle of 
the bower, eavesdropping, and Waldimir at another, each 
ignorant of the others presence or of the presence of Sobotjski.] 

I am so glad, my Lord, to meet thee here 

Where there's no ear but thine and heaven's to hear 

The overflowing of my full pent heart. 

A solemn matter have I to unfold 

Concerning one of whom thou ne'er hast heard, 

But who is dearer to me than my life. 

milo (aside). 

He's going to talk to me about his daughter, 
And thinks I know not of so fair a creature — 
Dreams not I've scaled the wall a thousand times 
To see her galloping beneath the limes — , 
Lavished upon her charms all powers of art, 
And wear her beauteous image on my heart. 
(To Stan.) Thy sweet confessional, my Lord, I'll 
list. 



12 

Stanislas (stammering). 
Milo, my friend, couldst thou a shepherd be ? 

MILO. 

I've had no practice in the fold, my Lord. 

STANISLAS. 

Milo, give ear ! Just eighteen years ago 

God trusted to my keeping a white lamb, 

So tiny, tender, and so beautiful, 

I feared to touch it with my mortal hands : 

For eighteen years I've been its prayerful keeper — 

Tended it, nursed it in my bosom till 

It is become a part of mine own life. 

Milo, I want a shepherd — for my lamb, 

A tender, watchful, prayerful, loving shepherd. 

MILO. 

Worlds would I give, my Lord, to be that shepherd ! 

I'd build the lamb a fold of gold, and set 

It in a case of pearls and precious diamonds — 

I'd nurse it — tend it — carry it in my bosom, 

And shield it from the softest breath of heaven. 

Place it upon a jewelled pedestal, 

And kneel before it as before my God. 

Stanislas (clasping Milo's hand). 

Thanks, Milo, thanks — a thousand — thousand thanks ! 
I had not hoped to find so good a shepherd, 
But heaven is ever mindful of her servants. 

MILO. 

Though I have had no practice in the fold, 
I'll be a model shepherd to thy lamb — 
Give it to me — Oh, give it me to-night ! 
And I will fold it in my inmost heart ! 



13 



STANISLAS. 

But thou must see it first, aud test thy liking. 

MILO. 

'Tis needless quite, my Lord, I know its charms 
And all its countless wealth of loveliness. 

Stanislas (astonished) . 
How? mortal man, save I, ne'er gazed upon it. 

MILO. 

The angels have, and blabbed abroad its beauty — 
The Pearl of Poland 's toasted far and near. 

STANISLAS. 

Thou dreamst, my Lord, she never passed my gate- 
Ne'er spoke to man, save me, in all her life, 
Nor breathed the air of heaven but in her mask. 

MILO. 

Imagination peers through masks of iron, 
And nature wills her chefs-d'oeuvre be seen. 

{Brows a miniature of Christine from his bosom). 
Is this a likeness of the Pearl of Poland ? 

Stanislas (snatching the picture and gazing on it). 
How ? Whence, my Lord, came this ? It lives ! 
It breathes ! 

milo (ivith a sinister smile). 
Some culprit painter stealing in the park ; 
Or, peeping o'er the wall when she's been passing, 
Has seen her fairy hand and tiny foot — 
Her graceful movement — and the face imagined. 
Here's one of her on horseback at full gallop — 
How dost thou like it ? 



14 king's stratagem 

STANISLAS {snatching it, and springing to his feet) . 
'Tis! My lamb is lost ! 

MILO (rising). 

Lost ! lost ! my Lord ! What dost thou mean ? 
Speak ! speak ! 

STANISLAS. 

That if these fall beneath Boleslas's eye, 
There is no power in earth to save my lamb. 

MILO. 

Fear not, my Lord, fear not the royal wolf ! 

I'd run him through, though fifty times a king — 

Burn down the palace o'er his pagan head. 

STANISLAS. 

Thou wouldst involve poor Poland in a war. 

MILO. 

I'd barter worlds of Polands for her Pearl. 

STANISLAS. 

Be moderate, friend, draw on thy heart the curb, 
Lest, taking the bit, it run away with reason. 

MILO. 

Love knows no curb, my Lord, no hobble brooks — 
Make me the shepherd of thy lamb to-night ; 
And my estate, Piotrawin, is thine 
In trust for her, and for her heirs for ever. 

STANISLAS. 

That would be over-haste — To-morrow morn 

At ten, attend on me ; behold the pearl, 

My precious gem, unmasked, and if thy mind 



15 

Be then of this accord, it shall be thine 
According to the Church ; Piotrawin mine 
According to the State ; and in the eve 
We'll have a nuptial fete upon the green 
To glad the vassals of Piotrawin. 

milo (embracing Stanislas). 

Thanks, thanks, my Lord, to-morrow morn will see 
Milo the happiest man in Poland — in 
The world! 

waldimle (aside). 

The knell of hope is tolling in my heart ! 

ALTSA (aside, wringing her hands). 
It must not be ! It cannot — shall not be ! 

Stanislas (lifting his eyes heavenward). 

Heaven be propitious to my lamb and shepherd ! 
Surround the future fold with ranks of angels 
So deep the wolf can find not where to enter ! 
Adieu, my Lord, adieu until to-morrow, 
Which shall invest thee with the shepherd's crook. 

MILO. 

Until to-morrow is a century, 

Lying between me and the land of bliss. 

Oh, for the lightning's wings to waft me onward ! 

STANISLAS. 

Go to thy home, my son, and come to-morrow. 

MILO. 

Adieu ! To-morrow 's registered in Heaven ! 

[Exeunt in different directions. 



16 king's stkatagem 

SOBOUSKI (coming from behind the tree, with a 
triumphant laugh). 

The air is the worst keeper of men's secrets, 
The sorriest confidant of pious shepherds, 
Since every square inch holds an eavesdropper ; 
They think they're talking to the wind while they 
Are emptying their hearts into men's ears. 

There is no secrecy but in the tomb — 
No safe, trustworthy confidant but death, 
He tells no tales outside of his dominions, 
But locks them in the storehouse of his wisdom, 
And by his reticence, provokes the sages. 

This side that silent Bourn man's heart is bare 
For envy and chicanery to peck on ; 
And on this eavesdropping may hang a tale 
For nursery-maids when kings are dead and rotten ; 
For in the Bishop there's an iron will — 
A dead persistency when in the right, 
That may move heaven and earth to mutiny. 

ALISA (aside, wringing her hands). 

My heart will burst. My brain asunder split ! 
But recognition will be certain death ! 

SOBOUSKI (continuing). 

To memory, now, I must commit the facts 
That are to slake the thirst of royal ears, 
And for which I receive more gold than honour — 
Purchase more adulation than respect. 

Let's see how runs the current of events. 
To-morrow morn, there is to be a wedding ; 
To-morrow morn, Piotrawin conveyed 
To Stanislas in trust for his white lamb ; 



king's stkatagem 17 

To-morrow eve, a fete upon the green — 
Profoundest secrets, all. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! 

[As he goes toward the exit, drawing his cloak around him, Alisa 
rushes out and seizes him by the arm.'] 

ALISA. 

Villain ! base, gold-fed, smooth-faced villain ! 

Foul pander to a royal monster's lust ! 

Beware ! lest on thy head descend my vengeance ! 

Say to thy regal master if he dare 

To cross the path of that most sainted virgin, 

Or soil her beauty by one lecherous glance, 

I'll tear the crown from his unworthy brow, 

And spurn it with the foot of indignation ! 

SOBOUSKI. 

Who 'rt thou that dar'st with such unblushing front 
To stop a gentleman ? 

ALISA. 

An honest woman, 
Who will expend the last drop of her veins 
To bring a damned villain to just judgment. 

sobouski (trying to shake her off). 
Release me, harlot ! 

ALISA. 

Not until thou'st eaten 
That leprous word, coined in base heart like thine. 

sobouski (dashing her off violently). 
Wench ! learn the price of thy temerity. 

waldimib (rushing forward with sivord drawn). 
Coward ! Dost dare to strike a woman ? draw ! 
[They fight. Sobouski is unarmed, and wounded.] 
C 



18 king's steatagem 



SCENE IV. 

Evening. The grounds before Milo's castle. ' Milo' and ' Cheistine 
in illuminated letters on the front of the castle. The flags of 
Poland and Syradie floating above the eagle-mounted 'portal. 
Coloured lamps glimmering among the trees. Fountains play- 
ing amid the green foliage. Garden benches, covered with crimson 
velvet, occupying the angles. A band of musicians occupying a 
raised dais, left of centre. Count "Waldimir leaning pensively 
against a statue of Cupid, right of centre. Ladies and gen tlemen 
promenading, rear of centre. Peasants dancing Mazurka, 
centre, seen at the rising of the curtain. Milo enters, leading 
his bride, followed by Stanislas, Alisa, ladies and gentlemen, 
and a crowd of vassals, crying, ' Live Milo ! Live Christine ! 
Live Stanislas ! ' 

ALISA (aside, rushing forward). 

Tis done ! 'tis clone ! — God ! 'tis done despite ! — 
And I am mad ! a poor, weak, vanquished woman ! 

Fate ! that I was born to be thy sport, 
And see mine idols shattered by thy hand ! 
Young Waldimir misplaced by Milo — Milo I (Weeps.) 
Be still, proud heart ! that would not — could not 

break, 
And give my secret to the pitiless winds ! — 

There are some marriages not registered 
In Heaven — and this, God ! is one of them ! — 

1 will away ! and, though it cost my life, 
Sever the chain that makes them man and wife ! 

milo (coming forivard with Christine on his arm). 

Sweet friends, inhabitants of Syradie, 

This is my bride, the priceless Pearl of Poland, 

And guardian angel of Piotrawin. 

With such a bulwark harm can reach us not. 



king's stratagem 19 

PEOPLE. 

Ho ! live Lord Milo ! live the Pearl of Poland ! 
Live Stanislas ! the pillar of the Chnrch ! 
Pride of the good, and terror of the wicked ! 

[The gentlemen applaud. The ladies fling their bouquets at 
Christine's feet, Waldimir comes forvmrd, embraces Milo, 
drops on his knee, and kisses the hand of the bride. Stanislas 
takes leave of the bridal party. The band plays the national 
Mazurka. Milo and Christine open the ball, and the dance 
commences with great animation. After a few rounds, Milo 
leads Christine to one of the front benches?^ 

MILO. 

Oh, what a happy day is this, Christine ! 
How all things harmonise with onr glad hearts ! 
I bless Heaven for her prodigality, 
Which, not content to give to me an angel, 
Hath girt me round with joys of Paradise. 

CHRISTINE. 

I cannot speak, my lord, the bliss I feel. 
It seems to me I'm not upon the earth, 
But am translated to some heavenly sphere ; 
Yet, midst this joy, I frankly must avow, 
I feel the chill of some dark hovering shadow. 

milo (pressing a hiss on Tier brow) . 

Soul of my soul ! sweet life-blood of my heart ! 
Bathe thy pure spirit in this sea of joy — 
So new and fresh to thy young opening life — 
Dive, my beloved, into its dizzy depths, 
And lose thyself in sweet delirium ! 

If but the shadow of a shadow dare 
Approach the charmed circle of thy beauty, 
I'll hurl it backward with the arm of Love, 
That's strong enough to pluck Sol out of Heaven. 
c2 



20 king's stratagem 

I feel a sadness, too, but know the why. 
This wondrous joy recalls my country's woes, 
The which thy youthful ear hath never drunk — 
Ah ! how much sorrow hath Boleslas wrought her ! 
How many bosoms laid in hopeless ruin ! 
Where'er he pass, is fear; where'er he pause, 
Are tears ; where'er he dwell, despair and death. 

(Aside.) Teach me not, Fate ! that beauty is a curse 
That falls upon her prostrate worshippers, 
Like some bewildering star cast out of Heaven ! 

(To Cheistine.) Adored Christine ! my sun, my 

moon, my star! 
Thy beauty's fame may reach his royal ears, 
And at the Court he may command thy presence — 
Oh ! promise me thou never wilt obey ! 

cheistike (rising, and posing her little gloved hand 
on his arm). 

The King command my presence at the Court ! 

Alas ! what would I do in such a place, 

Who never till to-day kept company 

But with my nurse, my pony, and my doll, 

Nor converse held save with the trees and flowers ? 

Why, sure ! I'll disobey, 

And on this cross will swear 
That none my heart shall sway 

Save thou, my gallant Pierre. 

My Court is thy proud castle, 

My sovereign lord thou art, 
And whether queen or vassal, 

My throne's thy lofty heart. 



king's stratagem 21 

There will I reign for ever, 

Through good and ill renown ; 

To leave it monarch never 

Shall tempt me with his crown. 

Like sunny rivers meeting, 

And mingling into one, 
Then down the valleys, greeting, 

On towards the ocean run ; 

Side by side in sunny weather, 
Side by side 'mid wind and rain, 

Our lives shall flow together 

Till death shall make them twain. 

milo (aside). 

She is a poet — a heart-melting poet — 
The heiress of God's richest, proudest gifts — 
Beauty and poesy — Heaven's rarest union. 
Misgivings shake me as I gaze upon her ; 
For near my Paradise I hear the serpent, 
And feel his venomous presence in the air — . 
Mine Eve — my beauteous Eve is doomed to fall ! 

(To Christine.) Upon thine oath I stake my hap- 
piness, 

My future, wherein thou art sun, and star, 

And moon, and all that lights my heaven of bliss. 
Now, let us to the company return, 

And show our gratitude to those who make 

This festival so beautiful for us. 

[As he leads her back to the company, "Waldimir, who has been 
standing near them, follows Christine with loving eyes, and 
thus speaks:] 



22 



WALDIMIK. 

I loved her ere I saw tier face — 

I loved her for her lovely name : 
Her beauty and celestial grace 

Have kindled in my breast a flame 
That neither time nor tide can tame. 

The arrow's quivering in my heart. 

I strive to draw it — but in vain : 
Mine eyes grow dim — my pulses start — 

Hot lava streams course every vein — 
Delirium clasps my reeling brain. 

She is another's by decree 

Of Fate, and never can be mine — 

Such bliss Heaven never meant for me ; 
But I can worship at the shrine 

Of beauty that is all divine. 

I know that I must meet her oft, 
And gaze into her eyes so meek, 

And clasp her hand so fair and soft ; 
But lip nor eye shall ever seek 

To tell the pain that cannot speak. 

Within my heart of heart I'll bear 

Her image through the world with me, 

j^nd none shall ever know 'tis there, 
Although my guiding star it be — 

My lamp into eternity. 

[Milo beckons Waldimir to join the dance. The band plays the 
Mazurka, and in an instant the whole multitude is in a 
whirl. The sound of wheels is heard. Two armed Heralds 
enter and announce the King. The royal car enters, escorted by 
a guard. Boleslas, in robes of State, descends, surrounded 
by his courtiers. The music stops, the dancers pause ivith 
signs of discontent. 



23 

Ausa exclaims from behind her mask : ' Upon some evil is he 
bound. I will keep nigh with dagger ready.' Mixo advances 
slowly, with Cheistike on his arm, to greet the King.] 

BOLESLAS. 

Passing Piotrawin this evening, and 
Hearing sweet music and the sounds of joy ; 
And learning it was a fete in honour of 
The marriage of my noble equerry, 
Milo, with Beauty's heir and Poland's Pearl, 
I turned aside to pay them my respects. 

MILO. 

We had not hoped for so much honour, Sire — 
This is a simple family festival, 
Unworthy of the presence of a king ; 
And, had we known your Majesty so near, 
We had not dared to count upon your presence. 
This fete was organised by twice two thousand 
Yassals devoted to myself and bride. 

BOLESLAS. 

It pleases me to hear of their devotion 

And loyalty unto the Pearl of Poland, 

Upon whose presence Cracow counts this winter 

For the embellishment of all her fetes. 

CHRISTINE. 

I thank you, Sire; I much prefer to rest 
At Piotrawin, to glad my lord and vassals, 
Especially since I have sworn to do so. 

BOLESLAS. 

The oaths of beauty are revocable — 
But to the Bishop I will put the question, 
Full sure thou wilt obey his pious hests. • 



24 



CHRISTINE. 

Oh, yes, I will abide his sweet commands, 
Since with his life I know he will protect me. 

BOLESLAS (looking round). 

The dance is done. I would it recommence — 
I came to bring thee joy, not drive it hence. 
"With thee, fair lady, I would try the waltz, 
Which I so awkwardly just interrupted. 

[Christine turns to Mno/or a reply. He bows assent. The King 
encircles her waist with his arm. The band flays, and the 
dance recommences at every point of the grounds. 
After a few rounds, Christine tears herself from her royal 
partner, and running to Mno, who is seated on a front bench, 
falls swooning into his arms. The band stops — the company 



gathers round them — Axisa rushes at the King with a drawn 
dagger — the guards seize her. Tableau.] 



SCENE V. 

Midnight. An ante-room in the Castle of Milo. Shrieks heard 
within. The three royal favourites, masked, enter right of centre, 
bearing Christine in her nuptial attire, and swooning. They 
place her on a sofa. 

sobouski (bending over her). 
She's beautiful as Heaven ! 

walislas (looking in her face). 

She is, by Jove ! 

kotschuski (looking at her). 
She has Diana's brow, and Hebe's lids. 



25 

SOBOUSKI. 

Venus' s mouth, and nectar- dripping lips, 
And, by the gods, I'll taste them ere the King ! 

(Kisses her). 

WALISLAS. 

Dost thou not fear the vengeance of the bridegroom ? 

SOBOUSKI. 

Between this and the waking of the bridegroom 
There will be time to kiss my life away. 

voices (within). 
Murder ! Oh, murder ! murder ! murder ! thief ! 

SOBOUSKI. 

Hark ye ! the bloodhounds are upon our track ! 
Let us away with her to Cracow. 

[ They bear her out. Vassals rush in with blazing torches, crying 
'Murder !' and dash out in 'pursuit of them.'] 



SCENE VI. 



The bridal chamber. Weeping vassals. Lifeless form of Mllo, 
in his nuptial attire, lying on a couch. Count Waldimir 
kneeling by it with his face concealed in his hands. 

The vassals shrink back. Stanislas, in his long sable stole, his 
rich brown hair of yesterday white as snow, and bearing a 
crucifix uplifted before him, enters and kneels by the couch; then 
rising, and gazing around on the weeping vassals, breaks forth : 

STANISLAS. 

The wolf ! the wolf I the royal wolfs been here ! 
Like a thief in the night, he stole into the fold. 



26 

Murdered the shepherd, bore away the lamb 
To satiate his damned appetite ! 

Look on this manly form, this cold, pale brow, 
On which so recently joy sat enthroned ; 
These lips, so eloquent with magic lore ; 
These love-illumined eyes, that yester-even 
Outshone the stars in Heaven, now sealed for ever. 
[Lays his face in his hands, and sobs.] 

Think of his goodness. What he was — and is ; 
His bud of bliss nipped on its eve of blooming, 
And, if ye can, withhold your righteous vengeance. 

[He again weeps, then continues :] 
The wolf ! the wolf ! the royal wolf's been here ! 
O'ercome the shepherd, ravished the sweet fold — 
Hark ! hear ye not the bleating of the lamb ? 
Its helpless struggles as he flies ? Away ! 
Pursue the ravisher ! track him to his den ! 
Surround him — slay him — bring me back my lamb ! 
My little lamb so long nursed in this bosom ! (Sobs.) 
Withhold your tears ! they naught avail the 
dead ! 
Leave them to women, and if ye be men — 
Men with kind souls — men with sweet, loving hearts — 
Go forth ; like trumpet- tongued tempest, thunder 
This deed, before which Hell turns ashy pale, 
Into the ears of Heaven and Earth until 
They, smit with horror, rise in combination, 
And of this monster rid the trembling world ! 

[Falls back into the arms of Waxdimib. The curtain falls on 
tableau, to low solemn music] 

END OF ACT J. 



27 



ACT II. 

SCENE I. 

Cracow. A dimly-lighted room in the Palace of Boleslas. A sofa 
near a window : a little table in front of it, on which are writing 
materials. Ghost of Milo, standing behind the sofa, following 
Christine with sorrowful eyes, as she gropes about the room, 
still in her bridal attire, seen at the rising of the curtain. 

CHRISTINE. 

Am I asleep ? Is this some horrid dream ? 

Or a reality that will undo me ? 

What place is this ? These things so rich and strange : 

They daze mine eyes ! 'Tis not my bridal chamber ! 

That is bedecked with chaster garniture, 

And drapery more virgin in its hues — 

[BouESiAS enters by a secret door.] 

It is the King ! I'm lost ! (He approaches.) Aback ! 

Approach 
Me not ! (He attempts to embrace her). 

O Pierre ! protect me ! save thy bride ! 

[The Ghost glides between them and backs Boueslas out.] 

GHOST (returning to the sofa) . 

Christine, beloved and hapless Pearl of Poland, 
Fair storm- encompassed lily, lift thy head. 
Count Waldimir's beneath the window, ready 
To die for thee, and to avenge my murder. 
Come, pen thy state, and drop it from the window. 



28 

Christine (looking up from where she is crouched). 

What do I hear ? It is my bridegroom's voice ! 
The same that rapt me at the nuptial altar 
With music sweeter than angelic harpings. 
I will obey — will write to Waldimir — 

[Creeps to the table, writes, and flings the letter from the window. 
As she turns round Bolesias re-enters. She shrieks, and flies 
from. him. He follows her up.] 

BOLESLAS. 
Silence ! fair Pearl ! make not this much ado ! 
I seek thee only to confess my love, 
Which is more than my bosom can contain — 
Silence ! obedience to thy royal master ! 

[As he seizes her, he espies the Gthost, and in his terror hurls her 
from him.] 



SCENE II. 



Piotrawin. Evening. A dimly-lighted room in the Manor House. 
The glass covered,. Stanislas reclining on a couch in his dress- 
ing-gown. Jean nodding in a fauteuil near him. 

STANISLAS {running his fingers through his white hair). 
Jean, what's the matter with my hair ? 
jean (awaking). 

Oh, nothing, 
Master. 

STANISLAS. 

Bring me the glass. 

JEAN (springing up). 

Oh, don't look at it ! 
Don't master ! don't ! 






29 

Stanislas (sternly). 

Art mad ? Why's the glass covered ? 
Uncover it, and bring it instantly ! 

JEAN. 

Oh, no, no, master ! don't look at thyself! don't ! 

Stanislas (rising, and pushing Jean aside). 

Madman ! hold off thy hands ! T'll see myself! 

[He falls into the arms of Waldimir, who enters.] 

waldimib (replacing Mm on the couch). 
My lord, my lord, I find yon very weak ! 

STANISLAS. 

Yes, Waldimir, I'm weak — I'm very weak. 
The tempest was too mnch this time. It broke 
The oak. Why have they veiled the mirror ? 
I'd see the havoc that the storm has made. 

WALDIMIR. 

My lord, it is a silly superstition 

Our simple vassals all attach to mirrors. 

When death or malady is in the house, 

They fancy thence will look some horrid Death's 

head. 
But calm thyself, and hear the news I bring. 

Stanislas (seizing Waldimir' s arm). 
What is it ? Has my son returned to life ? 

WALDIMIR. 

Ah ! no ! but better news than that, my lord. 
After I saw thee safe at home this morn, 
Upon my- swiftest steed I flew to Cracow — 
Entered the forest by the eastern gate — 



30 king's stratagem 

Approached the palace 'neath the spreading oaks, 
And paused beneath an iron-latticed window, 
Hoping to hear some voice or see some sign 
To tell me where the stolen Pearl was hidden, 
And on what point to bring to bear onr vengeance. 

Scarcely a moment had I waited there, 
Concealed behind an oak, when I beheld 
The fairest little hand Heaven ever made 
Let fall between the bars a tiny note. 

I seized it — placed it in my throbbing bosom — 
Retraced my steps — regained my steed — remounted — 
Buried my spurs half in his quivering flanks — 
And in an hour retouched Piotrawin. 

[During this narration Stanislas holds Waidimir's arm with a 
death-clasp, draws himself up halfway between a horizontal and 
a perpendicular, and gazes into the speaker's face with the 
stare of a maniac.'] 

STANISLAS. 

Why razed ye not the palace to the ground ? 
Buried the damned wolf beneath its ruins ? 

waldimie, (rubbing his arm). 

Thy clasp, my lord, is too emphatical — 
Resume thy pillow — Jean, sit down behind him ; 
There, so ; now list me read. 

Stanislas (in a tearful voice). 

My little lamb, 
I hear it bleating still. 

WALDIMIR. 

I hear it, too ; 
And for its woes could shed a sea of tears ; 
But tears can open not its prison-door — 
Now, lean on Jean, and hear me read the letter, 
Dropped from the window as if meant for me. 



king's stratagem 31 

stanislas. 
I tell thee Heaven's at work upon our side. 

WALDIMIR. 

This letter is in evidence. Now, lean 

On Jean — there, so ; and calmly list me read it. 

STANISLAS. 

Calmly ? Oh ! ask the tempest to be calm ! 
The wounded lion not to roar with pain ! 
The stricken gladiator not to bleed ! 

WALDIMIR. 

Jean, hold thy master till I read this letter. 

STANISLAS. 

He cannot hold the tongue of agony : 

That must find speech, or cleave the heart asunder. 

WALDIMIR (reading'). 

' I'm in the palace of the King imprisoned, 

My door and every egress sentinelled ; 

And though a fire is burning in my brain, 

And blood-stained hands are still before mine eyes, 

Yet am I calm, because not all deserted : 

Pierre's love-attuned voice enrapts my ear 

Like tearful breathing of an angel's lyre. 

The King, this moment, with triumphant front, 

Entered my presence, and was put to flight 

By the celestial armour that surrounds me.' 

STANISLAS. 

I tell thee Heaven's at work upon our side ! 

WALDIMIR. 

This letter is in evidence. I told thee. {Reads.) 



32 

1 A voice as fine as air reveals that thou, 
Brave Waldimir, doth wait beneath my window 
Tidings of me, and bids me thns convey them. 
Oh, bear them thither with the speed of lightning, 
And rally gallant Poland to my rescue ; 
Or, if her heart be dumb — Oh, come thyself ! 
And pluck me from the rock wherein I lie, 
Amid dark waves that threat me with destruction ! 

' Christine.' 
stanislas. 

I told thee so ! I told thee so ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

'Tis now the Court of Heaven 'gainst that of 

Earth— 
The strong against the strong — Heaven against 

Hell- 
God against Satan and his fallen angels. — 
We'll beat them yet — we'll beat them yet, Waldimir, 
And, howling, hurl them down to darkest night ! 

O Thou who art the Judge of quick and dead, 
Pity my weakness and my wondrous grief! 
Send me a torch-bearer from Heaven to light 
The difficult ways wherein Thou wilst I tread ! 
Send me my son — my shepherd of a day ! 

JEAN. 

master, no ! Bring him not back ! Oh, don't ! 

[The light grows dim — the ghost of Milo enters, and pauses before 
the couch. Jean covers his head, and Waldimir falls back, 
powerless.'] 

STANISLAS. 

Welcome, thrice welcome, back, ill-fated shepherd ! 
Fresh from the presence of the Triune Powers, 
Acquaint me how far Heaven my cause espouses ; 
Whate'er thy mission be, unfold it freely ; 



king's stkatagem 33 

Withhold no word meant for mine ears, attuned 
To highest tension to take in Grod's Will. 

Expose to me the hired assassin's name, 
Who, like a hoar-frost, in the night-time came, 
And so untimely nipped thy bnd of bliss, 
That he to speedy justice may be brought. 

GHOST. 

After the fete upon my nuptial night, 

While my fair bride was bent before the Virgin, 

Weary, I flung me on my couch a moment : 

Scarce had I touched it when sleep closed mine 
eyes, 
To ope' no more but on my murderers, 
And then reclose upon the things of earth : 
Sobouski's pitiless hand was on my throat, 
Which with one grasp sent me before my Glod, 
Unshrived, and unabsolved of mortal sin. 

Abashed, I told the story of my wrong : 
Then, as when enemy invades a country, 
Dearer than life to its devoted people, 
They rise up as one man, one arm, one soul, 
All Heaven, incensed, arose against the authors 
Of this most cruel and untimely murder ; 
And since there is no earthly tribunal 
To try a King, and bring him to just judgment ; 
And since his crimes are bounded by no law 
Of conscience nor of country, Heaven takes sides 
In favour of the weak against the strong. 

Arouse the nobles, notify the clergy ; 
Assemble them at Cracow, in thy palace, 
And to the noble Archbishop of Poland 
Assign the task to wait upon the King, 
To lay bare to his eyes his many crimes, 
And ask the liberation of his captives. 
D 



34 king's stratagem 

Christine, the priceless Pearl of Poland 's there 
To me 'tis given a certain time to guard her 
Against the machinations of Boleslas. 
Fly to her aid while I retnrn to Heaven 
To lay his sins before the Triune Bar. {Exit.) 



SCENE III. 



Cracow. Morning. The Audience-Hall in the Episcopal Palace. 
On an estrade, rear of centre, in the episcopal fauteuil, reclines 
Archbishop db Gense, Primate of Poland, in his scarlet and 
ermine : on his left, in a fauteuil less elevated, sits Stanislas, in his 
sable stole and white locks, uncovered. Eight of centre are seated 
the principal noblemen of Poland ; left of centre, the archbishops, 
bishops, and sub-dignitaries of the Church. 

STANISLAS (rising and addressing the nobles, at the head 
of whom is Count Waldimer). 

Noble chevaliers and respected seigniors, 

Convened, yon see assembled here to-day, 

Our venerated and beloved colleagues — 

His Highness, Pierre de Gense, Archbishop and 

Primate of Poland ; the Lords of Yarsovie, 

Of Grodno, Lublin, Syriade, and Kolo, 

Who, now, are ready to give ear to ye, 

And bring your cause their best deliberations ; 

But first, according to our ancient usage, 

Swear Waldimir, your spokesman, on this Book 

To speak no word ye cannot verify 

In presence of most scrupulous inquisition. 



KING'S STRATAGEM 35 

waldimir (advancing and placing his right hand on 
the Bible, extended to him by Stanislas). 

I swear to speak the truth in fear of Heaven, 
And in the presence of the hovering Spirit 
Whose sacred rights we're here to vindicate. 

STANISLAS. 

Now, to our Primate and these Bishops, speak 
As doth become a noble and a Christian ; 
Bare to their mental eyes the moral cancer 
That's secretly consuming Poland's heart ; 
Ring in their ears the shrieks of murdered husbands, 
Of ravished wives, and crushed, despairing fathers; 
Emmove their hearts until their hands, perforce. 
Tear from the body-politic this ulcer 
That — that — speak, Waldimir ! speak ! tell it all ! 
[Sits down, and lays his face in his hands.~\ 

Waldimir {addressing the Primate and Bishops), 

My lord, and dignitaries of the Church, 
Absorbed by holy things, ye may not know 
The wrongs endured by Poland and her children 
In consequence of the unbridled passions 
Of him whose name I yet forbear to mention. 

Till now, my lords, restrained by love of peace, 
And Poland's ancient reverence for her chiefs, 
The general indignation has been silent ; 
But it has reached the limit of sweet patience ; 
The slumbering volcano is awaking ; 
The lava hisses — -Earth trembles — Heaven quakes — 
The smothered fires are ready to burst forth, 
And with their thunders shake the pallid world. 

Your Lordships' ears have, doubtless, drunk, 
ere this, 
The many rumours of the brilliant union 
d 2 



36 

Contracted 'twixt Lord Milo and Christine, 

So generally styled the Pearl of Poland — 

A gem so fair, so chaste, so beautiful, 

The sun, the moon, the stars — all Heaven and Earth 

To its perfection yield their spotless lustre. 

Know ye, that on the evening of this marriage, 
Boleslas, like a shadowy bird of prey, 
Descended 'mid the gay festivities, 
Danced with the bride, and breathed death in her 

ear ? 
That in the dead hour of that festive night, 
His favourites, Sobouski, Walislas, 
Kotschuski, masked and armed, the castle entered, 
Murdered the bridegroom on his nuptial-couch, 
And to their master bore the beauteous bride F 

PRIMATE. 

Impossible ! impossible ! my lord ! 

WALDIMIR. 

Impossible, my lord ! Behold the proof ! 

(Hands hwi Christine's letter.) 

And when thou hast perused that solemn missive, 

Let fall thy lofty glance upon thy left, 

(Points to Stanislas) 

And there behold the monument of grief — 

The noble ruin of a mighty temple 

O'erthrown and shattered by this moral storm, 

And say no more this crime's ' impossible ! ' 

primate (returning the letter). 
Ah ! ah ! 'tis very sad ! 'Tis very sad ! 

WALDIMIR. 

Indeed it is, my lord ! 'Tis wondrous sad ! (Points to 

Stanislas.) 
Survey those piteous tears — those snow-white locks, 



king's stratagem 37 

Drained of their golden sap and silken lustre 

By one fell thunderbolt of ruthless sorrow, 

And from thy throne of dignity descend 

Down to the level of his monstrous grief — 

Weep with him, moan, sigh — wring thy hands with 

him — ■ 
Be unto him what Christ was to the Leper — 
Touch him, revive him — send him leaping forth 
Like fount unchained beneath the smile of God. 

He had, my lord, a little blue- eyed lamb, 
Which in his bosom eighteen years he'd carried ; 
Sheltered it — nursed it — loved it as his life : 
A youthful shepherd saw it — loved it too ; 
And to his tender care he did confide it ; 
And on that very night the royal wolf 
Broke into the new fold — the shepherd killed, 
And bore away with him the bleating lamb. 
Pity ! my lord ! he hears its cries even now ! 
They tear his heartstrings like thrice barbed arrows ; 
They bend him, break him — they are killing him ! 
Oh ! save him ! save him ! Thou who art so strong, 
Fly to the royal harem ! seek Boleslas ! 
Appeal not to the King, but to the man ! 
Around him weave thy magic spells of speech ; 
Lift him upon the wings of eloquence 
Until he see the grandeur of his crimes, 
And render liberty to captive beauty — 
Oh, do ! Oh, do ! my lord ! I pray, beseech thee 
To save this bleached, bent oak ! Let it not fall 
Quite to the ground ! but lift it — prop it up — 
Brace it until it take fresh root, and draw 
Into its shrunken veins new sap — new life ! 
[During this appeal, Stanislas slides from his seat and creeps on 
his knees towards the speaker, who is on his knees before the 
Primate : at the end, weeping, they rush into each other's arms, 
and remain thus during the Primate's speech.] 



38 

primate {wiping a timid tear from his cheek). 

Noble chevaliers, we have heard your cause 

With patient and dispassionate attention, 

And unreservedly to you confess 

The shame and sorrowful regret we feel 

In presence of the truth of the shortcomings 

Of him who guides so well the ship of State ; 

Who through so many perilous storms hath brought 

her 
Safely, though oft dismasted, into port. 

If sympathy could bring the dead to life, 
And reinstate them in their nuptial rights ; 
To household-altars give their idols back ; 
If tears could wash the dark spots from the sun, 
Then were it done, my lords, and quickly done ; 
But all the waters in the heart of earth 
Would not suffice to make them one shade whiter : 
For wrongs, such as you lay before these presence, 
The Pouvoir of the Church is impotent ; 
And as the criminal is the Temporal- Court, 
Ye have no remedy save prayers and tears. 

To us 'tis recommended by the Apostle 
To live in harmony with all the world ; 
And disobeying this advice would be 
To seek occasion of dissension with 
Him who holds in his hands both peace and war, 
The destinies, my lords, of Church and State : 
To interfere would be the Church's downfall ; 
To knock from under her her corner stone : 
Deprive her of her royal recognition, 
And who would then our imposts us deliver ? 
Who authorise our pious institutions ? 
Encourage and sustain our goodly works ? 

Abandoned to the simple charity 
And sole sustainment of our faithful B*ebis — 



king's stratagem 39 

Our golden crosses broken — we would be 
Compelled to be contented with the baton 
Of the Apostles ; and I, myself, confess 
I slightly understand the Apostleships, 
Without the miracles and sanctities. 
Then let us try, as long as possible, 
Noble chevaliers, to preserve the peace 
And sweet conciliation of the Church ; 
And be content to pray the Lord our God 
Upon behalf of sinners and their victims. 

Such is, I know, the aggregate opinion 
Of my beloved and venerated colleagues. 

[Stanislas drops his head on Waldimir's bosom with a heavy 
groan. The noblemen look at each other with astonishment, and 
the bishops, after nodding assent to the Primate, hang down their 
heads.'\ 

Stanislas (disengaging himself from Waldimir's arms, 
and rising to his feet) . 

My noble lords, and venerated colleagues, 

God keep me from. an undervaluation 

Of the wise admonition of the Apostle, 

In recommending peace and harmony. 

The Church, I dare affirm, had never more 

At heart these mighty goods than at this moment ; 

And that, when she consents to lose them, 'tis 

Non possumus enforces it upon her. 

Devoid of peace — which is her soul and sinew — 

You'd see, my lords, how much more she'd desire it 

Than those who recommend it unto her. 

Peace and conciliation she'd then teach 

By recommending virtue to the mighty ; 

And would replace her crosses by the baton, 

Rather than covenant with royal crime, 

And to the great legitimate the vices 

For which she every day condemns the little. 



40 

When the Apostle recommended peace, 
He said — ' Chastise ye sinners, follow them, 
Adjure them, and fear not ye sin in making 
Them hear, and understand the words of wrath.'' 

I ask, my lords, if kings be here excepted ? 
And add — Saint Ambrose did not thus believe ; 
And though I be unworthy of Saint Ambrose, 
I'll strive to make this new Theodosius hear 
The voice of truth. Armed only with the cross 
And Christian grace, I'll seek this royal pagan. 

PRIMATE. 

If thou dost beard the lion in his den, 
And dost get bitten, cry not to the Church. 
She 's given thee warning, and will hearken not. 

STANISLAS. 

My lord, suppose you had a little lamb 

WALDJMIR (springing to his feet). 

My lord, my lord, appeal not to his heart ! 

Its portals are all locked with golden keys. 

Excuse him. Emotion 's unbecoming ermine. 

T' anoint the blind man's eyes — to touch the leper — 

Might soil the gloves of Christian dignity. 

Stanislas (stretching his pale trembling hands heaven- 
ivard) . 

Thou, who rul'st the Church above, below ; 

Who see'st the heart though mountains of fine gold 

Be piled on it, to these wise men assembled, 

In thine own way make manifest thy will, 

And teach them that, though Mammon reign on 

earth, 
Justice and Virtue reign in heaven ! 



king's stratagem 41 

[A soft mist fills the hall — the ghost of Milo glides in and pauses 
before the Primate.] 

Behold, my Lord Primate, mine advocate ! 



PRIMATE. 

What ! a ghost raised up to plead before me ? 

'Tis an impostor ! I will listen not. 

Away ! away ! perfidious conjurors ! 

Who with fell arts would steal away my senses — 

Away ! away ! 

[He swoons — the bishops rush forward to his aid — all becomes 
dark.] 



SCENE IV. 



A dimly-lighted cabinet in the Palace of the King. The King and 
Walislas seated at a table, left of centre, playing at chess. 
Sobouski and KotschusJci looking on. Ghost of Milo standing 
behind the King, misplacing the pieces. Guards lingering about 
the entrance to the cabinet. 

boleslas (knocking over the chessmen in a fury). 

Checkmated ! by the holy gods, checkmated ! 
What is the matter ? Have I lost my wits ? 
I bring my men out well, but they're misplaced, 
As if the devil were at play among them. 
Array again the armies, Walislas, 
And let us have the rubber with King's-Gambit. 
Fortune in that, perchance, will favour me 
More than she hath done in the Bishops-Opening. 

[All laugh.] 



42 

The move is mine, and if I lose the rubber, 
I shall be snre the. devil 's on the tapis (moves). 
King's pawn to king's fourth-square, my gallant 
knight : 

walislas (moving). 

King's pawn to king's fourth -square, your majesty. 

BOLESLAS. 

King's bishop's pawn moves to king's bishop's fourth. 

WALISLAS. 

Which I will take according to the gambit. 

BOLESLAS. 

My king's knight jumps o'er to king's castle's third. 

WALISLAS. 

My king's knight's pawn advances to his fourth. 

BOLESLAS. 

My royal bishop seeks queen's bishop's fourth, 
And menacingly looks on your king's guard. 
[G-host moves it to queen's knight's fifth.] 
WALISLAS. 

And my king's bishop holds queen's bishop's fourth, 
And from your king cuts off his aide-de-camp. 

BOLESLAS. 

Then, shall my queen march on king's castle's fifth, 
And look defiance on your trembling king. 

WALISLAS. 

His valiant knight attacks her majesty. 

BOLESLAS (talcing the King's bishop's pawn with his 

queen) . 
Checkmate ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! Checkmate ! ha ! ha ! 



king's stratagem 43 



WALISLAS. 



Checkmate ! lia ! ha ! My king now takes your 
queen — ha ! 

boleslas {aghast). 
My queen ! King's bishop covers her attack ! 

WALISLAS. 

Your bishop stands upon your queen's knight's fifth, 
Leaving his queen unsheltered in the field. 

boleslas (looking). 

By all the gods ! 'tis so ! The devil placed 
It there, and by his move I've lost the rubber : 
In three games he has tripped up my success. 

[Ghost moves bishop back to queen's fourth.] 

Look ! look ! 'tis now upon queen's bishop's fourth ! 

kotschuski (forcing the King hack into his seat). 
Sit down, your Majesty. Be calm ; 'tis nothing ! 

boleslas (trembling). 

A hand as thin as air I saw remove it 
Back to queen's bishop's fourth, where I reposed it ! 
I'll cause the Pearl of Poland to be strangled ; 
For since her presence here I've seen but ghosts 
And goblins, and the devil's hand at chess ! 

SOBOUSKI (laughing). 
We'll call his Majesty the ghost-seer. Ha ! ha 

boleslas. 

Silence, Sobouski ! Sing me a gay song ; 
Something to lift my spirits — I am sad. 



44 king's stratagem 

sobouski (accompanying himself on the guitar) : 

The Pearl, The Pearl of Poland, 

Fairer by far is she 
Than fairest gem of Ophir, 

Or diamond in the sea. 

But she is proud and haughty, 

And knows not to obey ; 
And with celestial armour, 

Boleslas keeps at bay 

BOLESLAS. 

Silence ! I asked for something gay, Sobouski : 
Something to drive away these ghosts and goblins, 
And lift my spirits to their wonted level. 

SOBOUSKI (laughing inwardly). 

One happy day in coach of State, 

And royal robes arrayed, 
Boleslas sought the nuptial fete 

Of Poland's loveliest maid. 

And taken by her wondrous charms, 

As must a gallant King, 
He took the lady in his arms, 

And danced around the ring 

BOLESLAS (furious). 

Silence, Sobouski ! Thou art most provoking ! 
When I am sad, thou ever must be glad ! 
Some strange, discordant spirit doth attend me 
Where'er I go, befogging all my thoughts, 
Upsetting glasses, and misplacing chessmen. 
Did ever mortal play a sorrier game 
Than I have played to-night with Walislas ? 
Who, at the best, is but a sorry player. 



45 



WALISLAS. 

Your playing, Sire, doth justify the proverb, 
1 Who's bad at play, is lucky with the fair.'' 
Upon the latter game I'd bet my head 
Upon your Majesty's triumph and gain. 

boleslas (mournfully}. 
Dost thou call that a triumph and a gain ? 
Illusion shall not carry me away. 
Such triumphs fail to satisfy the heart ; 
And as to gain, I'm poorer than before. 
[Favourites laugh.'] 
SOBOUSKI. 

In that, I'm quite of your opinion, Sire ; 

But as to difficulty of the games, 

I see but little difference 'twixt the two : 

In both some cavalier must be blocked 

Who's charged with the defending of the lady ; 

And when one 's driven him well into the corner, 

It needs but little talent to o'erwhelm him, 

And captive bear away the precious Pearl. Ha f 

BOLESLAS. 

Silence, Sobouski ! "Wilt e'er be a fool ? 

SOBOUSKI. 

In the same play, the fool rare leaves the King ; 
And doctors say that madness is contagious. 
Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! Laugh, your Majesty, 
And raise your spirits as the sea its foam, 
By inward agitation. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

BOLESLAS. 

Silence, Sobouski ! Silence, I command thee ! 
Henceforth, I recognise the right of none 
To speak to me upon this galling subject. 



46 king's stratagem 

[Ceslas enters, and announces Stanislas, who has been for some 
time in sight, hearing the conversation. The favourites burst 
into roars of laughter on the announcement of the Bishop.'] 

Well, Ceslas, bid his saintship enter. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
Conduct him hither with due ceremony. 

[Stanislas follows the old guard with a slow, majestic step, till he 
stops before- the King, who points to a fauteuil, which he refuses 
to accept, and remains standing, and regarding the favourites 
with a fixed gaze, while they turn their faces away with low 
tittering bursts of laughter.] 

STANISLAS (with great dignity). 

Sire, what I'd say might uselessly fatigue 
These gentlemen. I pray your Majesty, 
Therefore, to spare to them the pain of listening. 

[The King makes a sign to his favourites to retire: they obey, and 
Stanislas takes the fauteuil.] 

BOLESLAS. 
What new and pressing matters have arisen 
Within the Church to-day to send thee hither ? 

STANISLAS. 

Your Majesty, the Church is always pressed 
When at her heart she hath her children's welfare. 
I came to speak to you upon the subject 
Your Majesty just said ' none hath the righV 

BOLESLAS. 

What ! you have listened ? 

STANISLAS. 

Involuntarily, Sire. 
One who had been more timid had retired, 
But I leaned on your magnanimity. 
Esteem and admiration such rare courage 
Might in your royal breast, perchance, inspire. 



kinq's stkatagem 47 

BOLESLAS. 

Such daring 's dangerous. Speak upon thine errand. 

STANISLAS. 

Having naught new wherewith you to acquaint, 
I will proceed at once upou the issue. 
I come before you as a suppliant, 
The broken-hearted father of a family, 
Horribly outraged, Sire 

BOLESLAS. 

Horribly outraged ! 

STANISLAS. 

Yes, Sire, yes — horribly outraged — horribly ! 
While you enjoy serenity of conscience, 
Obedience and affection of your people. 

Sire, you were born a Christian — reared upon 
Your mother's knee, and often heard her read 
The lesson which I would recall to you. 
A Prophet once to Israel's great King said — 
1 Two men inhabited the selfsame city, 
The one was rich, the other one was poor. 
The rich man was possessed of mighty troops ; 
The poor man, Sire, had nothing but one lamb — 
One precious, little, snowy, blue-eyed lamb, 
Which he had sheltered from its infancy — 
His meat and drink with it divided, Sire ' — 

BOLESLAS. 

Yes, yes, I know ; but speak upon thine errand. 

STANISLAS. 

Now, Sire, one day, this rich man who possessed 

So many lambs, did take it in his head 

To steal the poor man's lamb, and kill his shepherd. 



48 king's stratagem 

boleslas. 
'Tis false ! 'tis false ! I say 

STANISLAS. 

And killed both, Sire, 
For there are different ways of killing lambs. 
Now, this King, after having heard the Prophet, 
Exclaimed — ' That rich man was God's enemy ! ' 

BOLESLAS. 

Pontiff ! yon are insulting Royalty ! 

STANISLAS. 

Very far from that, Sire ; I admire it much. 
And when this parable the Prophet ended, 
He said to this great King, ' Thou'rt this rich man ! ' 
The King then wept, and tore his raiment, Sire, 
And rolled upon the ground, exclaiming wildly — 
* I acknowledge it ! I've sinned before the Lord I ' 
Think'st, Sire, this was insulting Royalty ? 

BOLESLAS {aside). 

He'll have me in the madhouse if I list him. 

(To Stanislas.) 
Stop there ! I warn you to stop where you are ! 
I feel not the contrition of your King. 
Away ! insult my dignity no more ! 

STANISLAS. 

Your royal dignity I much respect ; 

But, Sire, you understand my parable, 

And if you act not on it — woe ! woe ! to Poland ! 

BOLESLAS. 

Enough ! enough ! your Greatness will retire. 



49 



STANISLAS. 



Sire, Sire ! reflect before yon send me hence. 
Think of yonr mother ; of your ancient glory ; 
And, above all, of your immortal soul. 

BOLESLAS. 

Pontiff", I'll hear no more I Stop where you are ! 
Ho ! guards ! conduct the Bishop from my presence. 
[The guards approach.] 

STANISLAS. 

Unhappy, most unhappy Prince ! dost mean it ? 
Then, hear the last words of my parable. 
And, by this Prophet, God said to this King — 
* I -pardon thee, but since thou me offend* st, 
Thy sword shall never be victorious more. 
Thy wives I will deliver to thy neighbour, 
And thou shalt lose the children born to thee.'' 
And to that King God did all that He promised. 

BOLESLAS. 

Pontiff, away ! Pray, pray for me, but go ! 

STANISLAS. 

The days of miracles are not all passed. 
Between this world and God's high judgment-seat 
Are myriads of invisible messengers, 
Who take notes of our good and evil deeds, 
And bear them to the register of Heaven. 

BOLESLAS. 

Pontiff, 'tis false ! I tell thee to be gone ! 

STANISLAS (lifting his eyes in silent prayer, while the 
Ghost glides in front of the King). 

Behold the shepherd of the stolen lamb ! 
E 



50 

Hear him, your Majesty, then ope' thy harem, 
And to domestic altars give their idols. 

Speak, Ghost, poor wandering and unhappy shade! 
Open thy fleshless lips ; in thy tear-moving voice, 
Attuned by angels, read this obdurate King 
The schedule of his crimes before God's bar. 

boleslas (concealing his head in his mantle). 
Guards, seize the Pontiff! Seize the Ghost ! Away 
With them — away ! 

[The ghost vanishes — guards drag Stanislas out, crying, 'Woe 
to Boleslas !' The King then 'peers from his mantle.] 

They're gone : I am alone. 
That monk lit in my heart the fires of hell, 
And marshalled round them all my ghastly sins. 

God ! were I a better man ! But I'm King ; 
And kings can do no wrong, doth say the law. 

I am awakened on the brink of ruin. 
If I had listened to that priest much longer 
He'd led me straight into the cloister. 
He's a wonderful man. A master spirit — 
Smooth-tongued, contained, and subtle as the devil, 
And unto me a deadly enemy. 

1 must find means to clip the eagle's wings — 
To cut the hamstrings of this Hercules ; 
And for such business I have habile friends. 
Ho ! guards ! my courtiers — my courtiers ! 

[He wipes the dew of fear from his brow, and composes his features 
into calmness, that they might not see his weakness. Favourites 
re-enter.] 

Ha ! friends, ye fled before the enemy, 

While boldly I alone sustained his fire. 

Ha ! ha ! you see I have not lost much blood ; 

But my position is intenable — 

I cannot fight beneath a cross so heavy. 



king's stratagem , ; 

The shepherd 's turned his crook into a switch : 
And God in Heaven knows I'm ill disposed 
To take the flagellations of a monk, 

KOTSCHUSKI. 

Your Majesty, the remedy is easy : 
It is to break the switch upon the shoulders 
Of him who wills to use ifc over thine. 
And break it, too, so thoroughly that he 
Nor anyone can gather up the pieces. 

BOLESLAS, 

'Twere better to paralyse it than to break it. 
The last might put us on the kingdom's back, 
Which post might prove somewhat embarrassin . 
We must extend a net beneath his feet, 
In the entanglement of which he'll lose 
More than life. He'll lose action, liberty, 
Esteem — his wondrous popularity. 

SOBOUSKI. 

Thank Heaven ! I have the net here in my pocket. 

BOLESLAS. 

Would't not be nearer right to thank the devil ? 

SOBOUSKI. 

Mock me not, Sire ; if you desire to cage 
This sacerdotal lion, you may need me. 

KOTSCHUSKI. 

To shut his cage-door will be easy, Sire. 

SOBOUSKI. 

And think' st he will not try to open it ? 

E 2 



52 king's stratagem 

boleslas. 
Enough ! Now let me have Sobouski' s net. 

SOBOUSKI. 

Your Majesty remembers, certainly, 
The acquisition of Piotrawin 
By Stanislas the day Lord Milo wed 
The Pearl : your Majesty remembers, too, 
That on that nuptial night your equerry, 
Lord of Piotrawin, was basely murdered, 
And no receipt for payment ever found. 
Your Greatness also knows he left three nephews- 
Pierre, Jacques, and Sulislas, who are his next 
Of kin ; and lawful born, his heirs- at-law, 
And rightful claimants of Piotrawin. 
Now, add these bare-faced facts unto the oaths 
Of eighteen worthy vouchers who are loyal, 
And you can sink his saintship to perdition. 
What dost thou think ? 

boleslas {Hinging his arms around Sobouski). 

I think Sobouski worth 
A kingdom to his King. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! 
It is power or the wheel. Great men are rare ; 
And in his saintship's stead I'll make thee Bishop. 

kotschuski (bowing to the ground). 
Bishop Sobouski, I salute your saintship. 

WALISLAS. 

Th' episcopal promotion of Sobouski, 

Doubtless, will prove most pleasing to the Church ; 

But, first, his conscience should take holy orders. 



king's stratagem 53 

boleslas. 

You're charming, gentlemen ; but on this subject 
Not another word. Sobouski's idea's good, 
And on it I am going to act at once. 
Summon the claimants of Piotrawin. 
Within a few days, on the plain thereby, 
I will convene, and hold the royal Colloque, 
And there will have a care that Stanislas 
Appear to answer for the crime of murder. 

ALL. 

Ho ! live Boleslas ! live the King of Poland ! 

BOLESLAS. 

No ; live Sobouski, Justice, and the Law ! 

[Re-enter Ghost by a small secret door, followed by Christine, who 
is crazy, and attired in a loose white robe, her golden hair 
flowing nearly to the ground. They 'pause near the joyous 
group. Christine recognises Sobouski, and draws a dagger 
from her bosom.] 

SOBOUSKI. 

'Tis justice and the King against a priest. 
Monk Stanislas for murder of Lord Milo, 
Appropriation of his lands and chattels. 

BOLESLAS. 

'Tis war for ' the Pearl.' Who shall have it ? 

ALL. 

The King. 

boleslas (crossing his hands). 
Upon this cross allegiance swear. 

all (placing their hands on the cross). 
We swear. 



54 king's stratagem 

sobouskl 
Live, royal conqueror of a mighty monk. 

Christine (plunging the dagger into his heart). 
And die, Sobouski, murderer of my lord ! 

sobouski (Jailing into the arms of Walislas and 
Kotschuski). 

Uli ! I am murdered, friend ! Oh ! I am murdered ! 
Pray for my soul, that must face God unshrived. 

[Dies. 
boleslas (awaking from his stupor). 
Ho ! guards ! guards ! seize that fairy maniac ! 

Christine (struggling with the Guards). 

Unhand me, guards, I am not mad — 
Oh, no ! Oh, no ! I'm only sad 
Because they killed my gallant Pierre, 
And in the midnight dragged me here. 

Pity ! all day I sigh and weep — 
All night drive from my pillow sleep, 
With lamentations for my chief, 
And prayers to him to bring relief. 

[Gazing fixedly on the body of Sobouski.] 

O dying man ! if thou dost go 
Near to Heaven's gate, recount my woe, 
And bid my Pierre return for me. 
Oh, do ! and I will pray for thee ! 

Between my tears and sobs of dole, 
I'll pray the Lord to shrive thy soul : 



king's stratagem 55 

To wash from it its sable sin, 
And 'mong the angels take thee in. 

[Christine struggles with the guards. The King espies the Ghost, 
which hovers near her, and staggers backward aghast. The cur- 
tain falls on tableau, to low solemn music. ,] 



END OF ACT II. 



56 king's stratagem 



ACT III. 

SCENE I. 

Piotrawin. Morning. A plain before the village, encumbered with 
tents, troops, and peasants, surroundedby their chariots, children, 
and animals. In front of centre rears an estrade, surmounted by 
statues of Peace and Justice. Between them, in a rich fauteuil 
under a golden dais, sits Boleslas in robes of State, surrounded 
by his favourites and the great councillors of the Crown, in their 
purple mantles. Bight of estrade stand the royal guard ; left 
of it, thejusticiers and ushers; front of guard, a crowd of plain- 
tiffs and defendants ; front of justiciers and ushers, a crowd of 
witnesses. Passing to and fro on the plain, accompanied by 
trumpeters and a choir, are armed heralds bearing a banner, on 
which is painted the Judgment of Solomon. As they advance 
in front of the estrade, the choir sing: 

Wrong, treachery, and falsehood 
This day 're to be o'erthrown — 

Truth from the dust uplifted, 
And Justice mount her throne : 

Then, come, ye lords and ladies 

Who feed on nuptial rue — 
Come all ye fair-haired maidens 

Whose lovers are untrue : 

Come all who are downtrodden 

By perfidy or might 
Before the King Boleslas, 

And have your wrongs set right. 

[Guns announce the opening of the seance; Boleslas rises and 
looks round on the vast assemblage with a pleasing smile.'] 



57 



BOLESLAS. 



Children of Poland, and my dnteous subjects, 
It glads me to behold yon here to-day, 
In seeming health and blessed prosperity. 

From earliest time yonr chiefs have claimed the 
privilege 
Of re-convening every year this Colloque, 
Which purposes the banishment of wrong, 
Settling your quarrels and your litigations, 
Defending th' oppressed against th' oppressor, and 
Of re-establishing among you peace, 
Content, good- will, and social harmony. 

Such is the end of this time-honoured Confer- 
ence, 
To hold which for your weal I'm here to-day. 

[People cry, ' Live Boleslas !'] 

Happy the people who find in their King 
A father, friend, and conscientious guide ; 
Happy the King who feels it his first duty 
His children to defend against oppression. 
Whate'er your quarrels, bring them here to-day ; 
Whate'er your wrongs, lay them before this bar ; 
Whate'er your sorrows, pour them freely out ; 
Whate'er your wounds, uncover them that I 
In them may pour the Balm of Grilead. 

[People cry, ' Live Boleslas ! Live the King of Poland !'] 

The seance, now, is open. Justiciers, call 
The cause that may to you most urgent seem. 

JUSTICIEE. 

Your Majesty, the most important cause, 
As in our judgment seems, is that of three 
Chevaliers : Pierre, Jacques, and Sulislas, 



58 king's stratagem 

Nephews, and heirs-at-law of Pierre de Milo. 
These gentlemen in their joint names bring snit 
For the rendition of Piotrawin, 
Property of their loved lamented uncle, 
Which Stanislas acquired the day he died, 
And for the which they vouch he never paid ; 
And, to avoid which payment, they believe 
He did assassinate their noble kinsman. 

BOLESLAS. 

These are grave charges 'gainst our pious prelate, 
And with much proof, and strong, must needs be 

propped. 
Ushers, conduct his saintship to the bar — 
With all the ceremony due his rank. 

[The ushers thread the crowd with their batons, and return in a 
few moments, followed by Stanislas, leaning on the arm of 
Count Waxdimir. Every head of his party is uncovered as he 
passes: some fall on their knees, and essay to kiss his hand; 
some touch the edges of his sable stole, as if in it they perceive 
Divinity; and some cry, l Live, saintly bishop!' As he ap- 
proaches the estrade the King points to a rich fauteuil, which he 
accepts, and Waxdimib takes his place behind it.] 

Most venerated and beloved Bishop, 

It grieves me sore to see your saintship holding 

The fauteuil of a criminal before me-- 

Stanislas (springing to his feet) . 

I, hold the fauteuil of a criminal ! 

Of what am I accused, your Majesty ? 

BOLESLAS. 

Of murder — 

Stanislas (in a voice of thunder). 
Murder ! 



59 



BOLESLAS. 



Ay, the murder of Lord Milo, 
Your daughter's bridegroom, and my noble subject. 

Stanislas (sarcastically). 

Stealing the lamb, too, for the royal wolf ? 

For, he who killed the shepherd stole the lamb, 

And bore it bleating to his damned den. 

'Tis true, your Majesty, my son was murdered 

Upon that fatal day that saw him wed ; 

But is his blood upon these trembling hands 

That could not rob an insect of sweet life ? 

no, no, Sire ! see there the guilty spots 
Upon the hands of two who sit by thee ! 

[Blood-spots appear on the hands of Walislas and Kotschuski 
as they lift them to hide their faces.] 

Look ! look ! behold the crimson witnesses ! 
Whose testimony 's strong as holy writ ! 

boleslas (deadly $ale). 

Sit down ! such nights of fancy ill become 
One in the siege of a criminal — 

STANISLAS. 

A criminal ! ha ! 

BOLESLAS. 

Silence, priest ! sit down ! 
Lest on your head descend our royal vengeance ! 

[Stanislas falls back into the fauteuil, and drops his head on his 
breast with a heavy sigh.] 

1 am not able to believe your Eminence 
Capable of the crimes against your King 

With which you here so grievously stand charged ; 
But, such your saintship knows is my position 



60 king's stratagem 

As umpire of my people's holy rights, 
Holding between my hands the scales of Justice. 
That I must give due weight to great and small ; 
And here of persons no respecter be ; 
But must, between all, judge impartially, 
According to the evidence adduced. 

Stanislas (rising). 
Who're my accusers ? Let them speak before me. 

BOLESLAS. 

Pierre, Jacques, and Sulislas de Milo, rise, 
And state your charges 'gainst his sanctity. 

pieeee (the eldest of the Nephews). 

Your Majesty, we claim rendition of 
Piotrawin, our uncle Pierre's estate, 
To which we are at law the rightful heirs ; 
And which he deeded to his sanctity 
Upon the day that saw him wed and dead : 
And no receipt of payment for the same 
Has to this day, your Majesty, been found. 
We pray his sanctity for the receipt, 
Or, the rendition of the property : 
If neither he bestow us, we'll proceed 
'Gainst him for murder and appropriation. 

STANISLAS (springing up). 

For murder and appropriation ! Liars ! 

Base, gold-fed, fraudful claimants ! have a care ! 

BOLESLAS. 

Silence ! sit down, monk ! You have heard the charges, 
What have you in reply to say to them ? 






king's stkatagem 61 

Stanislas (with a sarcastic smile). 
I say, your Majesty, that if Lord Milo 
Could look down from that world which he inhabits, 
And see his kin before this tribunal 
With such persistent lies upon their lips, 
He'd blush, and plead with Heaven for liberty 
Here to descend to contradict these charges. 

BOLESLAS. 

Ye've heard his answer : what have ye to say ? 

PIEERE. 

With indignation we protest against it, 
And claim the quittance or Piotrawin. 

boleslas (with a smile of compassion). 

But, can your Greatness not produce the quittance ? 
Some line or sign in proof of payment made ? 

STANISLAS. 

No, Sire ; and 'tis because they know none doth exist 

That they do here persistently demand it : 

They know full well their uncle would not rob 

That happy day of time enough to give it, 

And that his death perfected the default ; 

But, happily for my cause, I have that which 

Is better, Sire, than mere material paper ; 

I have the true certificate of conscience — 

Ay, I have more ; I have the testimony 

Of conscientious vouchers who are here, 

And who were present at the signing, Sire, 

And who will put these claimants to the blush 

BOLESLAS. 

Wilt point them out ? 



62 

Stanislas (handing a paper). 

On this their names are writ. 

BOLESLAS. 

Ushers, conduct the Bishop's vouchers hither ; 
As morning sunbeams backward drive the mist 
That hangs upon the lofty mountain top, 
I trust these vouchers may dispel the cloud 
That overcasts the honour of his saintship. 

[The ushers find the vouchers among the crowd, and conduct them 
before the tribunal.] 

Vouchers, ye know his sanctity, the accused ? 

A VOUCHEE. 

We do, your Majesty : 'tis Stanislas. 

BOLESLAS. 

Saw ye the payment for Piotrawin ? 

VOUCHEE. 

Never, your Majesty, saw we such payment. 

BOLESLAS. 

Were ye present at the signing of the deed ? 

VOUCHEE. 

Never, your Majesty. 

BOLESLAS. 

Ye may retire : 
But say, your Eminence, have you no other 
Witnesses ? 

STANISLAS. 

No more, Sire, in all the earth ; 
And God forgive who bear false testimony ! 



63 



[A great tumult arises in the crowd. Those in favour of the King 
cry, 'No receipt — no witnesses — the bishop 's guilty!' and 
make a rush towards him, when Waldimib. steps before them 
with drawn sword.~\ 

WALDIMIE. 

Back ! miscreants ! advance another step, 
And one by one I'll cnt ye down like grass ! — 
Aback ! Upon the peril of your lives 
Touch not a hair of that grief-blanched head ! 

BOLESLAS. 

Count Waldimir, by what authority- 
Dare you assume command in royal presence ? 

WALDIMIR. 

By the authority of Heaven, Sire, 
That gives a man the right to shield his friend 
Against the darts of merciless murderers. 
Has he not drunk enough of gall already ? 

[The bishop's party cry, 'Yes, yes! down with false claimants! 
perjured vouchers ! ' and rush towards claimants and vouchers.'] 

STANISLAS. 

Hold, friends ! stir not in anger for my sake ! 
My cause is in the hands of Heaven — 

[He suddenly ascends the first step of the estrade, turns his pale 
face towards thepeople, and stretches his trembling hands heaven- 
ward. The people, awed, fall on their knees in silence.] 

King of Heaven ! Just Judge of quick and dead ! 
That with thy glance dost mark the sparrow's fall, 
And grasp' st the meaning of vast multitudes ! 
Since here, before this royal conference, 
Justice is dumb, and truth lies crushed to earth, 
And all is lost to me and to my cause, 
It is to thy Tribunal I appeal, 



64 king's stkatagem 

Before which falsehood dare not lift its head, 
Nor gold -bought vouchers give false testimony ! 

[The King and his favourites laugh ; the people cry, * Hear ! '] 
Your Majesty, grant me three days' delay, 
And here, before this earthly tribunal, 
I will produce a witness who shall tell 
You the whole truth — and nothing but the truth : 
Here, in these presence, on myself I take 
The obligation in three days from this, 
To bring Lord Milo or to forfeit life — 
The dead will fail me not as have the living, 
And God, who knows my heart, will be with me ! 

[As he descends the estrade, the royal party makes another rush 
towards him. "Waldimik again steps before them.] 

WALDIMIR. 

Back ! miscreants ! cowards ! stir another step ! 
And, by the God that rules, I'll slay ye all ! 

boleslas (rising). 

Children of Poland, hold ! all vengeance stay ! 
Respect his person, and his sacred stole ; 
Although accused, he is not yet condemned ; 
And from the cloud that now o'ershadows him, 
He may emerge as spotless as the sun : 
To give him, then, all chances of defence, 
I will postpone this Colloque for three days : 
Go to your homes, or rest ye where ye will 
In peace and harmony, and in God's fear, 
Until the hour of reassembling here. 

[The curtain falls on tableau, to slow music] 



END OF ACT III. 



king's stratagem 65 



ACT IV. 

SCENE I. 

Piotrawin. The library in the Manor-house. Stanislas kneeling 
before a crucifix. Count "Waldimir standing behind him. 
The Bishop rises with a smile suffusing his face, and flings his 
arms around Waldimir. 

STANISLAS. 

Count Waldimir ! most noble Waldimir ! 

The only one in all the world who dares 

To stand by me amid the cruel storm, 

My prayer is heard and answered — I shall conquer — 

Triumph o'er wrong : of this, I have the vouch 

Of Heaven — 

WALDIMIR. 

What if it fail ? 

STANISLAS. 

Heaven never fails ! 
It is the human, not divine, that fails. 
A miracle is to be wrought : but He 
Who said — ' Let there he light ! ' and there was light — 
Uncounted worlds, like tops, spun into space, 
Rotating according to eternal laws — 
' Let space divide the waters from the waters, 
The day be separated from the night, 
The earth produce her fruits ! ' and it was so — 
Can bid the dead arise, and be obeyed. 

For myself, Waldimir, and for my cause, 
I have no fears ; for thee and thine, I've many. 



66 king's stratagem 

WALDIMIE. 

What, my lord ? 

STANISLAS. 

Waldimir, thou lov'st my daughter. 

WALDIMIE. 

How dost thou know ? I never did confess. 

STANISLAS. 

Woe's wound my senses to the omnipresent : 
I see, and hear, and feel, and know all things, 
As if my brain were thought's illumined centre : 
The seer's prophetic vision's mine : I see 
Boleslas plant his sabre here — 

[Lays his hand on his heart.~\ 

WALDIMIR. 

Heaven ! 

STANISLAS. 

I would not leave my lamb without a shepherd — 
Waldimir, it is thine — 

waldimie {falling on his knees'). 

Mine ! mine ! my lord ? 

STANISLAS. 

Ay, thine : deliver it — take it to thy fold, 
Keep it, according to the sacrament ; 
Be unto it a tender, loving shepherd ; 
And, whether in this world or in the next, 
Mine orisons for thee shall plead for ever. 

waldimie (kissing his hands). 

T will deliver it ! will bring it to thee ! 
All white, and in its virgin purity, 



67 

And set it down between thee and the king, 
Or in the effort render up this life, 
Which is a bagatelle without the Pearl ! 

Stanislas (lifting Mm to Ms feet). 

Now go, my son, and leave me till the third, (aside) 
Which will be my last day upon this earth. 

[Waldeviir reaches the door, then turning, rushes hack into the 
open arms of the Bishop, as he stands like a broken column. "\ 

WALDIMIE. 

Oh, let me stay with thee ! Oh, let me stay ! 
Thou need'st the consolation of a son. 

STANISLAS. 

My consolation is not of this world. 

Now go, my son, and meet me at the Colloque : 

Thy care on that occasion I may need. 

[The Bishop 'presses a kiss on the brow of Waldimir, and waves 
him to depart: he obeys, and the Prelate continues solus :] 

Fail, fail ? — I fail ? Heaven is not so unjust ! 

'Tis he who never opened God's great Epics, 

And filled his soul with their eternal light, 

That fails : who never read the luminous volumes 

That line the libraries of the firmament, 

That fails : whose prayers were never entered in 

The ledger of the sky ; whose songs of praise 

And hymns of adoration never rapt 

Beatific ears ; whose purblind eyes bend earthward, 

And never look Heaven in the face, that fails. 

Fail, fail ? — I fail ? It is impossible ! 
I, who have pondered every volume flung 
Out of the fathomless fountains of the Godhead, 
And of their inspiration drunk until 
My soul, inebriate, fell upon its face, 
f 2 



68 king's stratagem 

And lay abashed and helpless in the Presence 
Of Triune majesty — left to be vanquished 
By dog-toothed lies and hell-born machinations ? 
I, who have wrestled with gigantic Passion — 
Battled with sin and Satan till my soul, 
Like veteran warrior's scarred all over, fail ? 
I, who have ope'd the gates of Heaven with prayer, 
And treated with the Triune Powers, fail ? 
No ! I've walked with Christ, and Christ with me, 
And in this hour of trial He'll not desert me ! 
[Falls on his knees before the altar.'] 



SCENE II. 



Cracow. The great entrance to the Palace of the King. Sentinels 
pacing to and fro on each side. ■ Enter Waldimik. at the head 
of insurgents. 

SENTINEL. 

What seek ye here in absence of the King ? 

waldimie (grasping the hilt of his sword). 
We seek the Pearl of Poland here detained. 

SENTINEL. 

We'll render nothing in our master's absence, 

Who to Piotrawin is gone to-day 

To hold the Colloque, and adjudge the guilty — 

WALDIMIR (drawing his sword). 
Then will we raze the palace to the ground, 
And let its weeping captives forth — 

SENTINEL. 

Aback ! 
Advance another step, and — 

waldimir (stabbing him). 

Death is thine ! 



69 

[He kills the second sentinel, and rushes into the court over their 
dead bodies.] 

Follow me, gentlemen, follow me to the rescue ! 

[A crowd of armed servants dispute their entrance at the great door of 
the Palace — in leaps Waldimir, while the combat goes on without 
— in an instant flames burst out through the windows, and 
shrieking women in dishabille rush out by the different portals.] 

voices (amid the crowd). 
Waldimir ! Waldimir ! come forth — come forth ! 
Save thyself ! save the fair Christine ! save Poland's 

Pearl ! 
[Waldimir appears among the flames, bearing in his arms the 
senseless form of Christine. As he descends, a hundred voices 
cheer him.] 



SCENE III. 



The whole depth of stage. The plain before Piotrawin, encum- 
bered as on the first day of the Colloque. People talking in 
whispers and casting mysterious glances towards the entrance. 
The King, surrounded by the councillors of State, is seated between 
the statues of Peace and Justice. Kotschtjski and Walislas 
are looking out. 

boleslas (descending the estrade). 
Gentlemen, what see ye there upon the horizon ? 

KOTSCHUSKI. 

We're looking for the ghost, your Majesty, 

BOLESLAS. 

His ghostship's late. Methought the dead were 
punctual — 

walislas (laughing) 
He's overslept himself, your Majesty. 

BOLESLAS. 

He's slept so long, methinks he might rise earlier. 



7*3 king's steatagem 



KOTSCHUSKI. 



Percliance, lie's stopped to break his fast — ha ! ha! 
Or quench his thirst — 



BOLESLAS. 



Ghosts only walk at night, 
Like certain gentry who love not the light. 



WALISLAS. 



This is a morning ghost, your Majesty, 
That takes the air by daylight — ha ! ha ! ha ! 

BOLESLAS. 

Truly, this is an interesting morning, 
My friends, a page in Poland's history. 
What will become of that ill-fated bishop 
When, like an avalanche the verdict takes him 
That I have been preparing all the night ? 
Which way will look he ? Whither fly for refuge ? 
Where seek a shelter from the public scorn ? 
Really, his saintship's fate disturbs my peace, 

KOTSCHUSKI (laughing'). 

By my faith, Sire, if tak'st it thus to heart, 
I'll charge myself with finding him a place. 
Madame, the Baroness Kotschuski, is 
In need of a chaplain at her manor seat, 
And with her I will guarantee him bliss — 
A sort of paradise — ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! 

WALISLAS (looking out). 
See the procession ! look, look, what a crowd ! 
By my faith, Sire, I think all Poland 's there ! 

BOLESLAS. 

But do you really see the ghost, Walislas ? 
Look well ; for he is there, be sure — ha. ' 



king's stratagem 71 



WALISLAS. 



By my faith, one might really think so, Sire ; 
For by the bishop walks a sort of phantom 
Which he is holding by the hand — look, Sire ! 

BOLESLAS (looking out). 

It is trne — what a piece of jugglery ! 

'Tis mocking God and man — but to yonr posts, 

And help to play the drama of the ghost. 

[The King ascends the estrade, followed by his favourites, and gains 
his seat just as several of his guard and his physician enter in 
haste and consternation.'] 

What is the matter, Ceslas ? What is it ? 
Thou look'st like a resuscitated mummy. 
What's lifted thy hair erect, and drawn thine eyes 
A mile out of thy head ? Hast seen the ghost ? 

ceslas (breathing hard). 

Yes, Sire, and all my comrades with me saw it — 

Sire ! it is no fiction ! no illusion ! 

1 looked into the grave ; for I had doubts : 

I laughed and made light of the powers of Heaven. 
O Sire ! Sire ! it is a wicked thing 
To mock that which outmeasures reason's stature ! 
A wicked thing — a monstrous wicked thing ! 

I stood right on the border of the grave, 
And looked down in the coffin, which was lidless, 
And saw with my two eyes wide open, Sire — 
Wide open — and clear of vision as they're now — 
The fine dust stir, then rise like ashes when 
A softly breathing zephyr blows into them ; 
Then settle back upon the dry white bones, 
And take the form of purple- threaded gauze, 
Whose fairy meshes 'gan to pulse and throb ; 
And crimson streams, no larger than the veins 



72 king's stratagem 

That interline the pinions of a fly, 

Along the violet-latticed rays to roll 

Into a central fountain in the breast — 

Right in the spot where, Sire, once beat the heart — 

The noble, youthful, palpitating heart. 

The bosom heaved — the eyes into their sockets 
leaped, 
Flashing like stars amid the crepuscule — 
The lips smiled — the hair put on its hues — 
And Milo rose — and stood up in the grave ! 
Then, Sire, I felt my blood all turn to ice — 
My hair rise up a mile upon my head — 
My breath pass from my body like the air 
Out of the bellows when they're sorely pressed. 
I tried to run — but fell upon my face, 
As thou dost see me, now — asphyxie — 

BOLESLAS. 

Where's Wislas, my physician ? Him I bade 
Attend the drama of the ghost. 

wislas (coming forward) . 

Yes, Sire, 
Yes, I was there, and saw the comedy : 
I left the madhouse ere the first cock crew, 
And thither went my studies to continue. 

BOLESLAS. 

Ceslas, old guard, resume thy legs — to Wislas 
Repeat thy tale. Thou sawst the dead, didst say, 
Little by little quicken in£o life ? 

CESLAS (rising). 

Sire, as I said, I saw the dust condensed, 

Quicken, arise, like soft expanding mist 

Whose weft is interwove with crimson sunbeams, 



king's stratagem 73 

Then settle down around the dry white bones, 
Covering them like a soft flesh-tinted mantle 
That holds the unseen mystery of life : 
Then pulse, and throb, and breathe, like a machine 
When viewless powers electrify its springs, 
And take on them the semblance of Lord Milo, 
Who rose and stood up in the grave, astonished 
A thousandfold more than the multitude, 
To find himself again upon this earth. 

BOLESLAS. 

What dost thou say to that, my learned doctor ? 

WISLAS. 

Why, Sire, I say that he believes he saw it. 

BOLESLAS. 

But all these guards, his comrades, saw it, too. 

WISLAS. 

Collective hallucination, Sire, 's most common. 

BOLESLAS. 

But, by my faith ! how dost thou that explain ? 

WISLAS. 

By different conditions of the brain, Sire. 

The nervous nets, which bring us images, 

Have two extremities — th' exterior, which 

Receives impressions of the visible world ; 

And the interior, which deposits these 

Same images beneath the mental eye ; 

That is, before the mind, which has the power, 

When it is under very strong emotions, 

To send them back again like shuttlecocks 

Unto said nervous net that brought them hither ; 



74 king's stratagem 

These images, then, having been repelled 
With a contagious nature, tou3h their neighbours., 
And bring about collective— hallucination. 
You understand me, Sire ? — 

BOLESLAS. 

Why, by my faith, no ; 
For when instead of these emotions, which 
Compel the mind to play at shuttlecock 
With its own images, it hold contrary 
Belief, who is it strikes the blow of the racket ? 
And when these flying images translate 
Themselves in flesh, and blood, and bones, and walk, 
And talk, and think, is it hallucination? 

WISLAS. 

No ; but 'tis then that we return to jugglery, 
With which we'll all the rest explain, your Majesty. 

BOLESLAS. 

I have fears, Wislas, 'tis thy reason fills 
The office of the shuttlecock — 

WALISLAS (pointing to entrance.) 
Sire ! Sire ! Behold the apparition ! See ! 

[The King springs to his feet, and Stanislas enters, leading Lord 
Milo, and followed by a crowd of people, priests, and nuns, 
singing :] 

He is risen from the dead 
Erect and strong of tread, 
As ere he went to sleep 
In the tomb so dark and deep ; 

God, who is life and death, 
Gives and takes away our breath, 
Reclothes with flesh dead bones 
To startle perjured thrones. 






king's stratagem 75 

BOLESLAS (pale and trembling). 

Gentlemen, to your places ; Wislas remain 

A while. The Court is open. Ushers conduct 

His sanctity and apparition hither. 

[ With majestic bearing. Stanislas leads Milo to the foot of the 

estrade.] 

STANISLAS. 

Your Majesty, behold the absent witness, 

Lord Milo, vender of Piotrawin, 

Who, by permission of the King of Heaven, 

Appears before you to give testimony : 

Accord to him the privilege of speaking 

On my behalf before this tribunal, 

That all may learn how falsely I'm accused 

BOLESLAS (with a smile of derision). 

Justicier, swear the ghost. We'll hear him speak. 

[A justicier timidly holds out the Bible at arm's-length, Milo places 
on it his right hand.] 

JUSTICIEE. 
Upon this book you swear to speak the truth, 
And nothing but the truth ? 

milo (in a sepulchral voice). 

Before the King — 

[The justicier staggers bach The King 'partially swoons. Several 
in the crowd fall on their knees and commence praying. The 
justicier recovers — re-extends the book and, Milo resumes.'] 

Before the King of men I swear to lift 
Truth from the dust where perjury has crushed her, 
And put the blush upon bold-fronted falsehood 
That with her leprous tongue has here essayed*. 
To cover with infamy this man of God. 



76 king's stkatagem 

BOLESLAS {aside to his favourites}. 
He speaks well for a ghost — by Jove he does ! 

milo (who has heard the King) . 
Sire, it is I, Lord of Piotrawin, 
Who, by your order, on my nuptial night 
Was cruelly and most untimely murdered 
By one who, now, his crime is expiating 
In dungeons lighted by the fires of torment 
In bottomless pit prepared for murderers, 
Where coils of fiery serpents twine their brows, 
And flesh sharp fangs of flame in their hot brains, 
Wringing out shrieks that shake the abysmal world. 

boleslas (aside, wiping his brow). 
Oh ! I can bear no more ! no more of this ! 

MILO. 

Spies, traitors, liars, and perjurers are there, 
Chained down to flaming stakes of fire and brim- 
stone, 
While demons heap live coals upon their heads — 

BOLESLAS. 

This is irrelevant — insupportable ; 

If thou know'st aught that can illume this cause, 

Say it, and get thee back into thy grave ! 

MILO. 

Piotrawin to this good man belongs. 
I gave to him the deed, and touched the price, 
Upon that day that saw me wed and dead : 
These witnesses were vouchers to the same ; 
And these false claimants are no kin of mine. 

BOLESLAS. 

Claimants and witnesses, what say ye now r 



KING S STRATAGEM 
, PIERRE. 

Your Majesty, it is a lying ghost, 

A "hypocritical, false-swearing phantom. 

[Thunder heard; a sheet of lightning envelopes them, and 
them pale and lifeless as statues.] 

BOLESLAS. 

Wislas, approach, and touch that apparition : 

I wish to know if it be flesh or air, 

Which will make all the difference in my verdict. 

it be air, the Bishop's case is lost ; 
If it be flesh, he sure must prove the winner. 

[After several attempts, Wislas succeeds in placing the tips of , 
fingers on Milo's shoidder.~\ 

What say you now, Wislas, is it air or flesh ?. 

wislas (shaking with fear). 

Sire, scientific rigour doth exact — 

Firstly, that we ourselves design the subject 

On which we are to make experiment ; 

Secondly, that we be the witnesses ; 

And thirdly, that of it we be permitted, 

At time and place convenient to ourselves, 

Several examinations of the same ; 

Respectfully I, therefore, here submit — 

But, but, Sire, what would' st thou have me say ? 

BOLESLAS. 

Tell the impression touch makes on thy brain : 
We cannot touch a thing without ideas 
Flying along the highways of the senses 
Like couriers to bring the latest news. 

wislas (confused). 
Your Majesty, at first, I thought the thing 



78 

Naturally impossible — but — but — 

I was mistaken — was deceived — your Majesty. 

[All laugh and applaud."] 
BOLESLAS. 

All who believe this pbantom to be Milo 
In person, will declare it. 

voices (amid laughter). 

It is be, 
Lord Milo, Master of Piotrawin. 

BOLESLAS. 

Therefore, unto these presence be it known 
His saintship is not guilty of the charges 
'Gainst him preferred before this tribunal ; 
And that to him Piotrawin belongs. 

[Voices cry, 'Live, Stanislas! live, saintly Bishop !'] 

Kotschuski, Walislas, give me your hands : 
I know not if I be awake or sleeping — 
Living or dead — in this world or the next. 
Come nearer to me, till I be assured. 

[Melo and Stanislas are receiving congratulations, when Count 
Waldimir, bearing Christine in his arms, enters amid a tu- 
multuous crowd, and sets her down before them. The King falls 
back powerless. Stanislas presses a kiss on her pale broiv, and 
places her hand in Milo's.] 

STANISLAS. 

My son, behold again our long-lost Pearl 
The noble Waldimir has found and rescued ! 
The precious gem has faded— since we saw it — (sobs) 
But light and liberty will soon restore it. 

boleslas (recovering his senses). 
What meaneth this ? I understand it not. 



king's stratagem 79 

STANISLAS [drying his eyes). 

Sire, in Piotrawin there lived a shepherd, 
Who had, .upon a time, a milk-white lamb, 
Which in his bosom eighteen years he carried — 
Petted, and loved more than he loved his life. 

In time, he trusted it to a new keeper — 
A noble, youthful, and lamb-loving shepherd, 
Who worshipped it — -adored it — took it home ; 
And on that very night the royal bloodhounds 
Broke into the new fold — the shepherd killed, 
And to their master bore the bleating lamb. 

Then, to this mighty king the owner went, 
Bending beneath his wondrous weight of woe, 
And on his knees implored him to release it, 
Which he refused, and drove the shepherd hence 
With scorn that cut into his soul like sword-point. 

This wrong moved noble hearts to mutiny, 
Who to the palace of this great king went, 
And brought to him, perforce, his stolen lamb — 
Behold it, Sire ! behold its meek blue eyes ! 
And ask thyself if thou hadst such a lamb, 
And some great. monarch stole it from thy fold, 
If thou'dst not rescue it at any price. 

BOLESLAS. 

Pontiff, away ! you are intolerable ! 
Hence with your lamb, and ghost ! and hobgoblin ! 
Nor let me see your damned visage more : 
You're Satan in his sacerdotal stole. 

STANISLAS. 

Sire, summon to thine aid sweet Christian patience 
Until I learn the will of this good witness, 
Whom Heaven 's sent here to put things into joint. 
Milo, thou mayst elect to sojourn here, 



80 king's steatagem 

Or, to return into the peaceful tomb. 
Select thy lot — and be for ever blessed ! 

MiLO {with a serene smile). 

My lord, I thank Heaven for her wondrous bounty, 
And thee for all the prayers thou'st offered for me ; 
They have been heard and answered in all justice : 
With what's called life and death I'm now acquaint, 
And know the cost and value of the twain. 

For him who has not crossed that mystic line 
That bounds the vision of mortality, 
This world has many fascinations — pleasures 
That dazzle and allure the purblind soul 
Whose mortal ken is wisely circumscribed 
By the unfathomed wisdom of the Godhead ; 
But, for him who has passed that distant bourn 
Into the land that knows nor cloud nor storm, 
The dazzlements and pleasures of this world 
Are dross, and from his unveiled vision fade, 
As stars before the effulgent smile of day. 

Who taste the peaceful slumbers of the tomb — 
That holy rest none in the flesh can know — 
That sweet serenity and perfect peace, 
Born but of sense of bless'd security 
Against the storms and tempests of this life — 
The pains and pangs humanity begets — 
Sorrows, whose merciless fingers wind the heart- 
strings 
Till with distension they asunder snap — 
The subtile woofs of envy and of falsehood — 
The machinations of the mighty wicked — 
Will thank Heaven for the shelter of the tomb, 
And to the vulture bare their hearts no more; 
Therefore, let me return into the grave, 



king's stratagem 81 

And with my mantle gathered round me, sleep 
Until the angel's trumpet bid me rise. 

[During this speech, Christine, upheld by "Waldimir, looks up 
into the face of her bridegroom, and when he is done, thus pleads:'] 

CHRISTINE. 

Oh, stay ! oh, stay ! beloved with me ! 

I'll smile from morn till even', 
And now from thraldom I am free, 

Of Earth I'll make a Heaven. 

I'll weave around thy life a charm 

Of beauty and delight ; 
Sorrow and woe with love disarm, 

And murder put to flight. 

So long for thee I've pined and wept, 
These nuptial robes have wore ; 

So long for thee sad vigil kept, 
Thou'lt leave me nevermore ? 

Or, if thou wilt not stay with me 

To dissipate the gloom — 
Take me, belov'd, to dwell with thee 

In thy mansion in the tomb. 

MILO. 

Christine, most loved, most honoured on the earth, 
It is not meet that we be reunited. 
The grave between us came — so let it be ! 
The flowers of thy young heart are scarce in bloom ; 
Bestow their wondrous wealth on Waldimir, 
Who is more worthy of the priceless gift. 
Count Waldimir, accept the Pearl of Poland 
Cherish it as the apple of thine eye, 
And, when the angels call, bring it to Heaven. 
G 



82 

[A royal servant dashes in, crying, 'Murder! murder! fire! fire! 
your Majesty, the Bishop has killed your servants, burned your 
palace, borne away "The Pearl."'] 

boleslas (leaping from the estracle at one hound — his 
naked blade flashing in his uplifted hand). 

The Bishop killed my servants ! burned my palace ! 
Then shall the monk and damned traitor die ! 

[Stanislas, stabbed to the heart, falls into the arms of Waldimir, 
who has confided the swooning girl to his valet.] 

STANISLAS. 

This is the last of earth — the end of sorrow — 
The last blow that my king and fate can deal me. 
Midway the voyage of life my bark is wrecked ; 
But through the storm I see a sail approaching : 
Nearer it comes, and nearer — now, it waits me ! 
Your Majesty, draw near me. I forgive you 
The running of my ship upon the rock 
From which — or soon or late — is no escape ; 
But, it is done — and I'm embarked anew. 
Already, through the cold dark mists of death, 
I see the lighthouse on the spirit-shore. (Dies.) 

alisa (dashing through the terrified croivd, pale and 
dishevelled'). 

My children ! oh ! my children ! Give them me ! 

[Seizes the King's arm.] 
Fiend ! Triple murderer ! Infanticide ! 
[He starts from his stupor and stabs her. She falls at his feet.] 

'Tis done at last ! My blood is on thy soul ! 
Thou'st killed the long-lost Princess Gruika — Oh ! 
Agony ! Most grievous exit ! — Monster ! 
Christine 's thy daughter — Milo is thy son — . 
And both the blighted fruit of mine own womb : 



KINGS STRATAGEM 83 

Pent in thy harem, Pierre was my first-born, 
Whom, ignorant of his parentage, I reared, 
And from thy royal treasure did enrich, 
Ennoble, and lift to his princely level. 

I felt another Life throb in my bosom ; 
My heart of it took counsel. Thee I fled. 
With Stanislas, who knew me not, found shelter. 
In time, a mother's throes his lady slew. 
Her agony brought me quick travail-pangs 
Whose sweet result — unseen by mortal eyes — 
I substituted for her womb's dead fruit. 
What joy ! What secret bliss to tend my lambs ! 
O God ! what agony to see them wed ! 
Myself dragged prison- ward upon that night 
That heard the death-shrieks of my princely Milo : 
But — but — I burst the cruel bolts at last, 
And came, to tell my woe, and die. (Dies.) 

ghost (^pointing its pale fingers at the King as it 
vanishes amid a halo of mist). 

Thou'rt doomed — the mists of night are gathering 

round thee, 
And in the pits of hell, already, demons 
Are building fires of torment for thy soul. 

boleslas (running to and fro). 

'Tis so ! A torch is burning in my brain ! 
Devils pursuing me with clanking chains — 
Oh ! keep them off ! Oh ! keep them off ! Save me, 
friends ! 

[His favourites succeed in restraining him. The curtain falls on 
tableau, to low solemn music.] 

END OF ACT IV. 
g2 



84 king's stkatagem 



ACT V. 

SCENE I. 

Morning. A room in the Manor-house. Christine reclining on a 
couch. Nurse seated near the foot of couch, snoring. 

CHRISTINE (springing uj?'). 

They're calling me ! they're calling me ! She 
sleeps. 

[Slips her feet into slippers by the couch.] 

I'm going home, I'm going home, 

I hear my father call — 
I'm going home, I'm going home, 

And soon shall meet them all. 

[ Goes to a tall mirror, and shakes out her long golden tresses over 
her white robe; then turns towards the door, and smiling, stands 
gazing on a fixed point.] 

There is my bridegroom of a day ! 

All dressed in white is he ; 
I see him there beside the way, 

And he is beckoning me. 

I'll go to him, thongh I'm no more 

In nuptial robes arrayed : 
My wedding wreath he will deplore, 

But he knows that flowers will fade. 

[Exit. 

waldimir (entering in his dressing-gown, and looking 
round the room, aghast). 

Christine, beloved ! Christine not here ? the couch 
Empty ? Awake ! arise ! eternal sleeper ! 



85 

[ The nurse springs to her feet — Doctor and vassals run in en 
deshabille.] 

Where is my angel ? My beloved — my countess ? 
Ill-fated slumber that upon me fell ! 
Fly ! search the Manor- seat — the park — the Vistula! 
My ! fly ! oh, fly ! and bring me back my Pearl ! 

f Vassals rush out. "Waldimib falls into the arms of the Doctor.] 

Doctor, sweet patient friend, medicine my soul ! 
Put thought and sense to sleep, till certainty 
Bid Reason reign, or abdicate her throne ! 

VASSAL (re-entering). 
A fair girl from the river they have drawn 

WALDIMIR. 



Christine 



VASSAL. 



The daughter of our woodcutter, 
Who, robbed of innocence, herself has drowned. 
The thief of virtue could not steal her beauty — 
It clings to her even in the arms of death. 

waldimik (drying his eyes). 

Heaven ! Thank God, there still is hope. Come, 

doctor ; 
Perchance, with dew- cold feet, she roams the forest, 
Chasing the mirage of her fevered brain. 

[Exeunt Waldimir and Doctor. 



86 king's stratagem 



SCENE II. 

A Forest. A woodcutter gathering flowers. Enter Christine, wear - 
ing a wreath of leaves — a crown of ivy on her head. 

Christine (in a tearful voice) . 

They're dead and gone, they're dead and gone, 

To dwell on spirit- shore ; 
They're dead and gone, they're dead and gone, 

And will retnrn no more. 

Tm going there, I'm going there, 

Since they cannot come here ; 
I'm going there, I'm going there, 

To join the loved and dear. 

father ! father ! take me home — 

Take me from this nnrest, 
As a white lamb Fate dooms to roam, 

And fold me in thy breast. 

woodcutter (coming forward) . 
Pretty Christine, why com'st abroad so early ? 

Christine (looking ujo). 
Who may'st thou be ? 

WOODCUTTER. 

Thy father's woodcutter ; 
Dost not remember me ? 

CHRISTINE. 

I know thee not : 
Go on thy way — go on thy way. Go — go ! 



KINGS STRATAGEM 8 

WOODCUTTER. 

Scorn not thy father's servant, pretty one, 

But take these flowers he's gathered for his daughtei 

(Aside) Who is mad too. 

CHRISTINE (recoiling). 

Is there a serpent in them ? 

WOODCUTTER. 

Pretty one, no ; but why suspect' st a serpent ? 

CHRISTINE. 

Upon my wedding-day they bound 

My brow with flowers of snow, 
'Mong which a basilisk fierce was wound 

That wrought me death and woe. 

And ever since, when I behold 

A lady's nuptial wreath, 
I see a basilisk fierce unfold 

Its coils the flowers beneath. 

I was so happy on that day— 

The world seemed full of light ; 
No cloud hung o'er my flower-strewn way — 

But now 'tis starless night. 

Pity the woe that cannot die — 

Pity this bosom's pain ; 
The fountains of my heart are dry — 

Fires burning in my brain. 

[She presses her brow with her pale hand, and moves slowly on.] 
WOODCUTTER (aside). 

Poor little Pearl ! Ah ! how I pity her ! 
So beautiful and rich, and yet so sad. 



8 8 king's stratagem 

All ! sorrow is respecter of no persons. 
My little girl is sad ; bnt she is poor, 
Else had her lover not deserted her. 

[ Wipes his eyes with his sleeve.] 

Christine,' the dew is chilly ; come aback, 
And in my loving arms I'll carry thee. 

Christine (moving slowly on). 

I'm going home, I'm going home, 

I hear my father call ; 
I'm going home, I'm going home, 

And soon shall meet them all. 

[Exit, followed by Woodcutter. 



SCENE III. 



Another part of the Forest. Furious barking of dogs heard. 
Boleslas, clad in rags, his long matted beard hanging on his 
naked breast, his haggard brow twined with ivy, rushes in, 
believing his body to be entwined by a serpent, whose coil he is 
trying to break. 

BOLESLAS. 

Aback ! ye howling demons ! Basilisk, off ! 
Unclasp your fiery folds ! Unclasp my heart ! 
Or I will break thy damned coil. Oh ! oh ! 
There, now ! I've got my heel upon thy head ! 
Die ! die ! ha ! ha ! I've vanquished thee ! ha ! ha ! 

Oh ! what a pest-house is the heart of envy ! 
Oh ! what a plague her hell-begotten hounds, 
That, wide-mouthed, yelp a mighty monarch down ! 
From star to star I leaped, they on my track ; 
Astride a comet's back I sped through space, 
They hanging to his fiery tail, and howling 



89 

To split the ears of Ether. (Dogs bark.) Hark! 

they follow ! 
Thence, like a shooting meteor, down I darted 
Into the sea, they yelping on my heels — 
Startling the sirens and aqnatic armies, 
Leviathan monsters, stretching many a rood 
Behind the coral breastworks of the deep. 
Then on a seahorse, goaded by their yells, 
And plunging through the blinding fogs of foam, 
Away I sped across the liquid fields, 
Over the skeletons of foundered ships, 
And sepulchres of dead men's bleaching bones, 
Until I reached the confines of my kingdom. — 
Dismounting then, I leaped forth into forests 
Lampless as Chaos ere the stars were lighted — 
Ran up the trees — then down — then up again, 
Clutching their branches, swung myself 'cross 

rivers — 
Up to my throne, whereon I'll take my seat. 

[Seats himself on a fallen tree. Christine, followed by terrified 
Woodcutter, enters opposite, singing in a low, tearful voice.'] 

CHRISTINE. 

They're dead and gone, they're dead and gone, 

To dwell on spirit-shore ; 
They're dead and gone, they're dead and gone, 

And will return no more. 

boleslas {coming towards her). 
Of whom dost sing so sadly, pretty one ? 

CHRISTINE. 

My father, whom Boleslas killed — 

My young and gallant love, 
Whom on his nuptial night he willed 

To send to realms above. 



90 king's stkatagem 

stranger, if thou hast a heart 
To feel a lady's woe, 

Go forth, go forth, and draw thy dart 
Against her royal foe (weeps). 

BOLESLAS. 

Do not weep, pretty maiden, do not weep ! 
I'll send mine armies forth to combat him. 

CHRISTINE. 

Thine armies ? 

BOLESLAS. 

Ay, the hosts of Heaven and earth, 
Of which I'm king. But thou wilt be my queen ? 

CHRISTINE. 

Oh, no ! Oh, no ! I cannot wed, 

My hand's already given ; 
My thoughts are dwelling with the dead, 

Who wait me in yon Heaven. 

Farewell, farewell, I'm going home — 

1 hear my father call ; 
Farewell, farewell, I'm going home, 

And soon shall meet them all. 

[She goes out opposite, followed by King and Woodcutter. In an 
instant furious barking of dogs is heard, and the King comes 
running back, and mounts on the fallen tree. Waxdimik and 
Doctor enter opposite, and stand unobserved, regarding the 
maniac] 

boleslas (with wild gesticulations towards the entrance 
where the dogs are barking). 

Away, barbarians ! Depart my realms, 
Ere war against ye I declare, and bid 



91 

Mine armies, numerous as the sands of earth, 
Against ye march, and howling hurl ye hell ward. 

Know ye not that I am a mighty king ? 
Monarch of Heaven, and earth, and sea, and air ? 
That at my nod the sun, and moon, and stars 
March forth in glittering ranks to fight my battles ? 
Another howling insult, and ye'll find 
Yourselves transfixed on points of flaming swords, 
Tumbling headlong adown the steeps of night. 

[Sinks down on the tree. Drops his head on his breast, and clasps 
his hands in front of his knees.'] 

WALDIMIE. 

How have the mighty fallen ! Yerily, 
Verily, the way of the transgressor is hard. 
Terrible the judgments of avenging Heaven ! 

[ The Woodcutter, paW and out of breath, rushes in, and falls at 
Wau)imir's feet.] 

What is it ? What is 't, man ? Oh, speak J Oh, speak ! 
Lest with uncertainty my heartstrings break ! 

WOODCUTTEE. 

O sir ! sir ! 'tis something terrible ! 

WALDIMIE. 

Oh ! what is it ? Canst thou not tell what 'tis ? 

woodcuttee (rolling over and over). 

sir ! wait till I gets a little breath ; 
The horror shakes me like a wintry wind. 

WALDIMIE. 

1 shall go mad — I shall go mad, dear Doctor ! 

DOCTOE. 

Good man, canst thou not speak upon the point ? 



92 king's stratagem 

woodcutter {making an effort). 

sir ! you did not send me after her ; 

But I was in the woods, and saw her coming, 
And followed her right to the cemetery, 
Singing * I'm going home,' in such a voice, 
It made me cry just like a boy that's whipped. 
And when she reached the cemetery, sir, 
Like a white snow-flake on his grave she fell, 
And lay a-trembling like a fallen leaf : 

Then, in my bosom, sir, I put her feet — 
Her little feet — no larger than a fairy's, 
And tried to warm them at my heart's poor fire — 
But oh ! the icy chill ! I feel it still- 
Bight here upon my heart, sir, where they lay, 
While up, and open wide, she turned her eyes, 
Bluer than the blue heaven whereon she gazed : 
Then, sir. Oh ! that was worse than all; 't was, sir ! 

1 never shall forget it — never, sir ! 

I saw three angels in white robes descend ; 
One was the Bishop — one Lord Milo — one 
Alisa, poor, good, murdered Alisa, sir — 
And fell upon my face — right upon my face ; 
And when my terror passed — and I looked up, 
I saw them bearing her white soul to heaven. 

[Walbimir leans heavily on the Doctor, during this paroxysm of 
the Woodcutter, then moves on towards the cemetery.] 



93 



SCENE IV. 

The Cemetery. Christine lying on Milo's grave. Terrified 
Peasants standing apart. Enter Waldimie, leaning on the 
Doctor's arm. He flies to the grave, and clasps the pale 
dead girl to his bosom. 

WALDIMIE. 

Christine ! Christine ! come back ! speak ! speak ! 

No breath ! 
No pulse ! God ! break not mine idol yet ! (Softs.) 

O man of art ! emmove these springs of life ! 
Motion this beautiful machinery ! 
That I may feel once more its magic powers ! 
Oh, do ! so new, it must not stop for ever ! 

[ The Doctor answers with his tears. Waxdimib gazes on the cold 
pale face, and cries between his sobs.] 

Gone ! alas ! for ever gone ! 

With thy wealth of beauty, 
Leaving me in the world alone, 

With nor hope nor duty : 

Like a ship without a helm, 

Starless drifting, ever, 
Outward on the boundless realm, 

Finding anchorage never : 

Gone ! in life's sweet vernal hour, 

Like a bud half-blown, 
Dropping from the parent bower 

Into worlds unknown. 

Gone with beauty's bright display 

To eclipse the angels, 
Leaving love to weep for aye, 

Fairest o' his evangels. 



94 king's stkatagem 

[Fierce barking of dogs heard without. Boleslas, bleeding, 
rushes in, and falls at the feet of mourners, followed by 
affrighted Woodcutter.] 

boleslas (as he enters). 
Oh, horror ! horror ! murder ! murder ! murder ! 
I am awake and wounded ! bleeding — dying ! — 

Oh, what a horrid, horrid dream I've had ! — 
Pursued by headsmen and their howling hounds 
Mid midnight forests, lighted only by 
The bloodspots on my hands — brighter than suns — 
Ay,, than a thousand stellar luminaries ! 

How have I fallen ! From what kingly height ! 
'Twixt fangs of dogs — my executioners, 
That from my soul tore off the pall of madness, 
And turned mine eyes into my heart, back from 
Whose baleful depths I shuddering shrink — as — as — 

[Gazes on Christine.] 
Fair, blighted angel ! plead for me — Oh, how 
I bleed ! how swift the darkness comes ! no sun 
Can lift ! Heaven is just ! murder its own sure 
Avenger ! 

[Dies. Curtain falls on tableau, to solemn music] 



THE END. 



LONDON : PRINTED BY 

SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE 

AND PARLIAMENT STREET 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724)779-2111 





Mil 



I 










